Missing in Action
by Audibug15
Summary: Newsies are missing throughout all of New York and no one is sure why. When the truth comes out, can the group of ragtags put a stop to it and pick up the pieces, or will Spot and the others lose their thrones? Rated M for language, violence, and adult themes.
1. What In The Hell Are You Doing?

AN: Okay so I wrote a Newsie story on here when I was like... 14. It was terrible. I'm much older now and I've gotten tons better at writing over the years, so I am re-writing it. It was called Odds in my Favor and it is still up if you want to compare it to this one. I honestly wouldn't read if I were you. It's awful. I have changed the plot a lot, but the characters are still the same. Flash is mine and so are all the other characters that are not in the movie. I do not own the rights to Newsies or the original characters in the movie and/or the Broadway musical. Hope you enjoy!

**August, 1900**

"Do you mind telling me just what in the hell you think you're doing?" Racetrack spit and glared at the unfamiliar girl perched on a ledge in front of him.

The girl glanced up from her paper before lazily returning her gaze back to it to continue reading. Race cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets. He didn't care much for being ignored. It irked him. He cleared his throat louder this time and the girl huffed in annoyance.

"Quiet down, will you? I'm just getting to the good part," she said, holding up a finger to silence him. She turned the page and gave a little sniff.

Race scowled and snatched the paper from her hands, crumpling it up and tossing it onto the ground. He stepped on it, grinding it further into the dirt, not taking his eyes off her face which was now turning a soft pink.

She jerked her head up, shifting her eyes from her wadded-up paper that lay by her feet back up to meet his hard stare. She sucked on her teeth and let out a dry chuckle. "That was a stupid thing to do. Your mamma ever teach you manners?"

Racetrack glowered. "What. Are. You. Doing?" he clipped, his words cutting through the thick air like a dagger.

She stood up, mimicking his stance. "Reading. That's kind of what you do with newspapers, kid." She snorted and shook her head, clucking her tongue.

Race made a face and contemplated stomping on the stack of papes she had laying down by her feet. The thought almost made him outright smile. Nah, probably not the best idea. His mother had in fact taught him manners. "Sheepshead is mine. You got no right to be here."

"Says who?'

"Says me. I own this. This is my turf. I've staked my claim."

The girl paused for a second and looked around, scanning the cobblestone carefully before scratching her head in confusion. "That's funny," she murmured.

Race rolled his eyes and shifted his weight back and forth. The late summer sun was getting to him now and he wanted nothing more than to grab some shade, drink some ale, and watch the ponies. He had a really good feeling this morning that his streak of misfortune would be ending today. He was proved wrong.

"What's so funny about that?" he grumbled.

She gave him a look, her eyes gleaming with something that Racetrack could only recognize as mockery. "Funny thing is, I don't see your name anywhere claiming shit." She crossed her arms in front of her and gave him a smug grin. Racetrack didn't like to be bested, especially now by the likes of her.

"My name is Racetrack." He frowned when he saw the blank expression on her face. "Racetrack," he repeated slower, as if he were talking to a child.

"Yeah, so?" she said dismissively with a wave of her hand.

His eyes narrowed and he had to hold back the urge to shake her out of frustration. "Why the hell do you think they call me that? I've been working this for four years!" he chided.

She shrugged and looked down at her thumbnail, picking at the skin around it. She didn't understand why this kept happening to her. She had been run off of street corners, parks, buildings. You name it, she was probably chased away. These uppity New Yorkers were a hell of a change from the Southerners she had interacted with on a daily basis. Moving up here hadn't been her plan in the grand scheme of things, but she was here nonetheless. She'd be damned if some loud-mouthed son of a bitch who thought he ran the place told her what was what. "What does that gotta do with me?"

Racetrack threw his hands up in exasperation. "You don't just come on someone else's turf and take their business. I don't know where you were raised, but that just doesn't cut it here," he scoffed. "Now I suggest you take your leave. Beat it, kid."

She put her hands behind her head and smirked. "Don't think I will. The papers all but sell themselves. They're practically flying outta my hand, what with all these gamblers needing them to see yesterday's racing scores." She sat back down and stretched out her body, making a production out of it before looking back up to meet his eyes. "This place seems plenty big for the two of us. Gotta pretty nice set up here, Pony Boy. Think I'll make this my regular dive."

Race's face turned a nasty shade of red at her remark. He'd known this girl for all of two minutes, and she was already planting her roots in the ground he called his own. She was a weed; a weed that needed to get the hell out of his garden. He'd made a name for himself here. Hell, he even had regulars that bought from him every day. That wasn't about to stop on account of some smartass hick with boundary issues.

"I don't think anywhere would be big enough for the two of us."

"I can tell by the size of your ego."

"I don't partner up with nobody and I definitely don't share my customers," he continued, ignoring her comment. "You can either leave or-"

"Or what? You gonna hike your leg up and piss like a dog to mark your territory? You gonna beat me up? I damn sure would love for you to try."

Racetrack took a deep breath to try to calm himself and looked around, avoiding her eyes that seemed to glow with amusement. He spoke once he was sure he wasn't going to yell at her. "Look, I'm trying to be nice here. Now, I'm not gonna soak you. I'm gonna calmly ask that you hit the road and don't come back trying to sell here. All I want is for you to sell somewhere else." He held up his hands, indicating that he was finished and that was that.

The girl chuckled and gave Race an amused smile. "This is you being nice? Jesus, you need to work on your delivery, 'cause that's not how I took it at all. I could give you pointers. See, you're already benefitting from having me around."

Racetrack let out a groan and shook his head. He took out a cigarette and clamped it between his teeth, lighting it with a swift flick of the match. He gave it a few good puffs and looked around, curious if anyone was catching this.

"What's the matter, Pony Boy, can't look a lady in the eye?"

"You ain't no lady. You're a spot thieving bum," Race snapped. "Don't you got better things to do than get under my skin? Don't you got some dolls to play with or a house to clean? Whatever other girly shit your type like to do."

She jumped down off the ledge, knocking over her stack of papes in the process. They blew lazily in the summer breeze but she didn't bother to bend down and pick them up. She narrowed her eyes at Race, all hint of playfulness gone. "What the fuck did you just say to me?" she hissed, her jaw tightening.

It was Race's turn to smirk at her. "Such foul language for someone claiming to be a lady." This earned him no response so he continued. "You heard me. Go do whatever you broads do best and leave the selling to the real men."

The girl's eyes darkened and Race couldn't help but notice the way she rolled her shoulders back, like she was squaring up to fight him. She could damn well try, but Race knew how to carry himself in a fight. His mother taught him not to lay a hand on a woman, but there was no way she'd even have the chance to throw a punch.

"Take it back."

"No."

"Take it back before I bust your kneecaps. And wipe that arrogant smirk off your face, you look stupid," she jeered.

Race laughed. "Was that supposed to be intimidating? Doll, you couldn't intimidate a flea into biting you." He took another drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke in her direction. She swatted the smoke out of her face and Race couldn't help but feel pleased. "I ain't taking nothing back."

The girl dug her fingernails into her palm, reminding herself that she was supposed to be laying low. Getting into a brawl with some nobody was hardly that, and it certainly wasn't worth possibly losing her freedom. She couldn't afford to draw the attention to herself. She drew in a deep breath to steady her voice and get her heart rate back to normal.

"Well, I'm still not leaving yet. I will when I'm good and damn ready to."

Race sucked his teeth and tossed his cigarette to the ground, crushing it with the tip of his shoe. "Well then you better be good and damn ready to by the time I get back. I'm going to get reinforcements and I doubt you will want to be around for that."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm so scared." She feigned a look of terror and then snorted, dismissing his threat.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Race said shrugging. He turned on his heel and trotted back the way he came.

"This isn't over, Racetrack! You don't scare me!" she called after him.

Race kept on walking, whistling a jovial tune to himself. The girl was still shouting obscenities at him, but by now he was too far away to hear them.

She watched him until he was a dot in the horizon, wondering just what he meant by reinforcements.

* * *

Walking from Sheepshead Bay to Manhattan was a journey Racetrack took almost every day. Rain, snow, or sunshine, Race still made the trek there. Everyone called him crazy for going there just to sell papes, but it was more than that to him. He loved the ponies. It had been that way for as long as he could remember. He also used the time to empty his head. There wasn't many opportunities to be alone so you had to get the time wherever you could. He usually enjoyed his time walking to and from Sheepshead. Today was an exception.

He was damn hot, the sun was blistering, and he had thought about his interaction with the girl the whole way back so he was pissed off again. He needed to find Jack. He was able to charm the socks off of ladies and Race didn't think this girl would be an exception.

Race spotted Jack in his usual selling locale. Jack looked irritated and Race figured the heat was getting to him too.

Jack noticed Race from about 10 yards away and broke out in a grin. Jack was an expert when it came to putting up a front.

Race jogged to close the distance between them.

"Heya Race. I would ask you how your day at the track was but seeing as how you're back so early, I can only guess it wasn't so good."

Race shook his head and sucked on his teeth, annoyed that they had this conversation more often than not. Jack would always ask if he'd won anything and Race almost always told him no.

Jack laughed and shook his head. "I don't know why you waste your time on those god forsaken ponies." He took out a cigarette and popped it between his teeth. He lit it and took a couple drags before chuckling to himself. "You're a great cardsharp, Race. Maybe the best in New York. Don't even have to cheat if you don't want to. But the ponies?" he raised his eyebrows. "Lousy."

Racetrack took a glimpse in the other boy's direction, slightly displeased. He was right, Race would give him that, but he'd been going to the tracks since he was a kid. It was a tradition he and his pop shared when he was alive and it was one that Race planned to keep to. So what if he lost a bit of money here and there because he got some bad tips?

"I didn't even get a chance to bet today," Race said in annoyance. He grabbed at the cigarette in Jack's hand and Jack obliged. "That's why I came to find you actually. I need you to use your charm. Some broad is selling in my spot. I told her to leave but she got mouthy. I don't deal well with mouthy."

Jack rolled his eyes. "We all know too well you don't do well with that."

"My best guess is she's one of Spot's new followers. Even so, she should know that Sheepshead is off limits. I know Spot and I are on the outs right now, but I don't think he'd go back on our agreement. Do you?" Race asked, unsure.

Jack gave him a perfunctory shrug. "Hard to know with Spot. He's neurotic. One wrong breath in his direction and you're picking your teeth up off the ground." He stood up and dusted off his backside before wiping his face with his bandana. "Come on, I wanna see what you're talking about."

They set off, passing by Tibby's and Racetrack's stomach let out a low rumble. He looked longingly through the window at someone's food and cursed the girl under his breath. She had ruined his plans of scarfing down a fully loaded dog.

They continued in silence for a while before Jack spoke. "Ya know, speaking of Spot, I'm supposed to meet up with him tomorrow. Apparently it's important but I got other business to attend to in Manhattan, so I'm sending you in my place."

Racetrack gave Jack a disbelieving look. "You serious, Kelly? You know my history with Conlon. I'm not just gonna march my ass into Brooklyn without him having asked for me."

"You march your ass into Brooklyn every day," Jack pointed out.

"That's different, Jack, and you know it. Spot and I stay out of each other's way and that's been just peachy with me. He already has someone taking Sheepshead from me. I'm not going to further piss him off showing up there when he's expecting you," Race retorted.

Jack gave what Race said some thought before waving it off. "Yeah but everyone knows you're my right hand. Even Spot. I can't send anyone else over there to do business with Brooklyn. Stuff like that has to be dealt with delicately by someone that has the know-how. You used to have a rapport with Spot. That's gotta count for something," he finished.

Race frowned and kicked a pebble. It bounced off a lamp post with a small clang. "What's he wanna meet with you for anyway? What's going on?" he asked suspiciously.

Jack bit his lip and gave a small shrug, furrowing his eyebrows. "I don't know. Just know Mouse said it was confidential when he delivered the message."

This made Racetrack uneasy. It was a very rare thing For Spot to call on the Manhattan boys for anything, never mind something so secretive. The only time any Manhattan boys set foot in Brooklyn was if Spot invited them for a poker game. They never actually wanted to go, but no one was stupid enough to tell him no. Spot being so tight lipped about the reason for the meeting put Race on edge.

"Fine, I'll go," he said, letting his contempt show in his voice. "But don't expect him to talk to me."

Jack nodded his thanks and they continued the rest of the walk in companionable silence.

It was early evening before they had made it to the tracks. The afternoon races had just ended and Racetrack could see crowds of people dispersing. The only people left milling about were the drunkards, the people who probably lost their bets and drank themselves into a stupor to forget it.

Jack peered around a small group of people expecting to see the person Race was talking about but she was nowhere in sight. He turned to Race and gave him a look. "What gives, Race? Where is she?"

Racetrack's eyes darted around, trying to catch a glimpse of the girl that had made his blood boil. "She was right there." he pointed to the spot she had been sitting. "She said she wasn't leaving."

Racetrack scratched his head. Sure, it had taken a while to walk back, but she had been so adamant on staying. He didn't think she would have relented.

Jack scanned the crowd once more before shaking his head. "I don't see any girls here at all. I guess she heeded your warning."

Race sighed, half annoyed and half relieved. He wasted his time walking all the way back to Manhattan, but at least she was gone. He didn't want to have to hear her mouth when he got back anyways. She was annoying and her southern drawl got on his nerves.

"Come on, let's go. Kloppman is getting strict on curfew. You've been making a habit of staying out past it. One more time and he's making you sleep outside for the night," Jack told Racetrack who nodded begrudgingly.

They turned around to head home and Race couldn't help but have a newfound spring in his step. The girl was gone, and she'd stay that way if she knew what was good for her.


	2. You Ain't Jacky Boy

The smell of the murky water at the docks in Brooklyn always turned Racetrack's stomach. The combination of garbage, dead fish, and the general mustiness of the Upper Bay was not a smell easily forgotten nor missed. It invaded his nostrils and clung to his clothes for days on end.

"Do my eyes deceive me or is that you, Higgins?" He heard a familiar cold voice and knew who was speaking without having to look up.

Spot landed on the dock with a hard thud, causing Racetrack to take an involuntary step back. There was a glint of light and Race recognized the gold top from Spot's infamous cane poking out from one strap of his red suspenders. Damn Spot and that stupid stick he carried around with him. Racetrack always found Spot's use of a cane to be a bit presumptuous, but never dared tell him that.

Racetrack gave a curt nod in Spot's general direction to which he did not return.

"I don't recall sending for you. If I remember correctly it was Jacky boy I asked for." Spot ran his thumb over the tip of his cane, gripping it tightly in his hand. He had a gleam in his eye, one that made Racetrack uncomfortable.

"Couldn't make it," Race muttered, not meeting his gaze. His eyes shifted around to the other boys flanking Spot, his lackeys. He recognized Poole and Jones, but there were some new faces that he couldn't place names to.

Spot gave him a smile, the corners of his mouth not reaching his eyes. "How unfortunate. As much as I'd hate to send you back empty-handed, I was expecting Kelly. I won't be needing your assistance."

Spot turned his back to walk away and Race felt like he had swallowed a pound of steel, the pit in his stomach growing heavier. He felt his face grow hot and the words spilled from him before he had a chance to stop himself.

"You're not dismissing me like that, Conlon. I didn't walk all the way here for you to be your usual asshole self to me." He felt his breath catch in his throat and realized he messed up. "Is that any way to address an old friend?" he asked jokingly, trying to back track and soften the blow his words had caused.

Jones and one of the guys Race didn't know stepped forward, grabbing a hold of him. They dug their fingers into the fleshy part of his upper arm, causing him to wince. He struggled against them, trying to loosen up their grip but they were bigger than him. His vain attempt to free himself was laughable to say the least.

Spot turned back to face them and held up a hand, signaling them to pause before they proceeded with the thrashing Racetrack knew must have been coming. He spoke, an icy chill in his otherwise calm voice. "Friends? Is that what you think we are?" he asked quietly. He gave Racetrack a cold stare. "Maybe my memory ain't so good, but we haven't been friends in a long while. Not since you forgot what your place was. I tolerate you, Higgins. But we are in no way friends." He gave Race a half shrug before continuing, "I throw you a bone by allowing you to sell at Sheepshead because you mind your business and leave me be. So I don't appreciate you coming into my domain to tell me what I am going to do. You should know that's not how shit works by now."

Racetrack watched Spot run his cane through his fingers and felt his heart pounding in his ears. He messed up and he knew that. So much for handling things delicately like Jack said.

"Need I remind you about the last guy that got too big for his britches?" There was the hint of a smile playing at the corner of Spot's mouth, but Race knew better than to mistake this as a playful one.

Racetrack rolled his eyes, knowing the risk he was taking by doing so. Spot had always been capricious, but Race was sure he wouldn't do to him what he had done to McAllister. It had taken weeks for his leg to mend and he walked with a noticeable limp now.

"I know where I stand Spot, and I know to tread lightly with you. I know my limits and I know your threshold for disrespect. But I'm tired of the veiled threats disguised as pleasantries. I mean no disrespect to you, but I am not going back to the lodging house without something to tell Jack." Race could feel himself starting to screw up again. "Can you tell me what is so urgent for you to call on Manhattan? Please?" he said, throwing the last word in there for good measure.

Spot stood motionless; his eyes fixed on Racetrack. He had a look in his eye that couldn't be placed.

Racetrack stared back at him, not wavering. He wasn't backing down. He didn't care if Spot really did soak him like that last guy. At least he'd go down like a man and not some gutless bitch. He spoke his truth and that's more than most people can say when dealing with Spot Conlon.

Spot's face was unreadable, one thing that contributed to his sense of unpredictability. When he spoke, his voice was flat and emotionless.

"Jones, Vulture, let him go."

The two older boys obliged, giving him a little shove before returning to their respective places by Spot's side.

Race rubbed his arms where their hands had dug into him, trying to regain some of the feeling back in them.

"At ease, boys." Race gave them a little salute, but their faces remained impassive. "Tough crowd," he muttered to himself.

"Leave us be, fellas. I'll take care of him if he over steps." Spot dismissed his goons and beckoned Racetrack to follow him. Race looked back at the guys, still glowering at him, and shook his head before letting Spot lead him away.

They moved wordlessly through swarms of his fellow followers before stepping out onto a lone pier. The pier looked out of place; it was clean compared to the rest of the docks in Brooklyn. There was no refuse or fish heads scattered about and the smell wasn't nearly as acrid. Instead, it smelled of water and wind, if you could call those smells. Race recognized the pier as Spot's own private dock.

"Have a seat, Higgins," Spot said gesturing toward a stack of crates sat close to the railing. Race sat down and Spot took out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He poured each of them some before stowing it back in a barrel.

"Where'd you get this? You steal it?" Race asked sniffing the amber liquid and swirling it around in his glass.

Spot took a small swig before answering him. "Didn't have to. I can get my hands on pretty much anything I want. Being leader has its perks. Not that you'd know, living in Jacky Boy's shadow and all." He gave him a small smirk before downing the rest of his glass in one smooth motion.

Racetrack shrugged, taking a gulp from his own cup. "What can I say, I'd rather not deal with the headache. Could have easily been me running things. But that's not the point, Spot. What is going on?"

"Right to the point, like always. No sense in making small talk, I guess." He paused. "South is gone."

Race raised an eyebrow. "Whaddaya mean 'gone'?"

"He's missing. He ain't the only one though. Bullman, Snatcher, Max. Gone. The lot of 'em. I talked to Sav over on Adkins Street and some of her girls are missing too." Spot leaned against the railing, gazing out over the water.

"Well what do you think happened? Is there a chance they all just packed up and left? We're all starting to get a little too old to sell papes now, and not many of us can pass off as kids for long."

Spot snickered and turned back to face Race. "You really think they all just up and left? Skipped town without as much of a word? This summer sun must have fried your brain."

"It happens, Conlon," Race told him defensively. "People grow up. They move."

"That may be true in some cases, like for you boys in Manhattan. But this is Brooklyn. I take care of my people, even when they can't be newsies no more."

Racetrack thought back on all the guys and even girls that had aged out of the newsie business since Spot had held the reigns in Brooklyn. Spot had a point; he was able to find at least a little something for them to do to keep food on their plates.

"Okay so say you're right then. What does missing newsies in Brooklyn gotta do with us Manhattan boys?" Race asked him inquisitively.

"You're dumber than you look, Race, and that ain't saying much," he said dryly. "If it's happening here then it's probably happening everywhere else too. You know of anyone from your parts that has just vanished without a trace? Here one day, gone the next?" Spot poured himself another drink and then filled Racetrack's cup back up.

Race leaned back against the railing and looked up, thinking hard about the question posed to him. "Come to think of it, I ain't seen O'Mahoney in a while. But he disappears all the time," Race told him.

"Suppose he's really gone. He probably isn't the first, and won't be the last either. We gotta get to the bottom of it. That's what this meeting all boils down to." Spot sat down and crossed his arms, leaning against the barrel. His eyes were focused on Race. "I gotta know that Manhattan will stand with us; that they will keep their eyes peeled and pass along any information about this situation directly to me."

Racetrack gave him a small shrug. "Sure, Spot. We can do that. You did help us last year with the strike after all." Race remembered how big of a role the Brooklyn gang played in the strike the previous summer and knew that they were in their debt for now. This would make them even, depending on if this was something they could really help with. "What is the plan? I assume you have one?"

Spot finished up his second drink and shook his head dismissively. "I'm not talking tactics today. That's a topic that Jack needs to be around for as the de facto leader of Manhattan. I just need you to tell your pal about what we've discussed and tell him we'll meet up later. Tell him I'm thinking of calling a meeting with the heads of the other boroughs. I expect him to be there. And not a word about this conversation with anyone else. I got little birdies everywhere, so I'll know who to come after if this gets out." He crossed his arms and jutted his chin forward.

Race gave him a sour expression before getting to his feet. "Ss much as I admire your bravado and have enjoyed this pleasant little chat, I best cheese it." He turned to leave and Spot grabbed his wrist.

"Don't come back here uninvited, Racetrack," he said coolly before letting him go.

Racetrack shook his head and walked down the length of the dock. "I won't as long as you tell your girl to stay outta my turf," he tossed over his shoulder, leaving Spot puzzled.

* * *

Sunlight beamed down hot on the back of Racetrack's neck and he could feel himself grow more and more agitated with every step he took. His clothes stuck to his body like melted cheese on a hot sidewalk. He was just making his way into Manhattan, the promise of shade looming in the back of his mind, when he spotted a familiar silhouette that put him further into a bad mood.

"Where the hell did you go yesterday?" he called to the girl he met at the tracks the day prior.

She whipped around puzzled and then visibly relaxed, giving him a complacent grin. "I'm not sure how a little guy like you could startle me like that." She gave him a quick once-over and a small sniff. "I don't know why I couldn't smell you from the other side of the Brooklyn bridge. You smell disgusting. Might I suggest a bath?" She said, waving her hand in front of her nose.

Race felt like punching her but decided against it, crossing his arms and scowling at her instead. "Well you sure don't smell like a bouquet of roses either. Do you avoid everyone's questions or just mine?"

She gave him a small shrug and turned away, causing Racetrack to groan.

"If it was so easy for you to leave yesterday, why didn't you do it the first 15 times I told you to?" he asked her.

"Didn't feel like it, did I? I told you I would leave when I felt ready to. Just so happened to be ready after you left."

"You made me walk all the way across the bridge to get my pal and then all the way back, only for you to be gone by the time we got there. Not to mention I missed out on lunch because of you."

"So? I didn't tell you to storm off like a baby without eating, did I? And walking is good for you. Keeps you in shape. Looks like you could stand to build some muscle," she retorted.

"Oh shove off. I talked to your boss Spot today. Told him to keep you out of Sheepshead, so don't get too used to selling around there," Racetrack shot back.

"I ain't got no boss. Can't nobody keep me outta anywhere. I go where I damn well please. Geh mir aus den Augen." The German sounded fluid, tumbling out of her mouth like water from a faucet. Racetrack was taken aback.

"What the hell did you just call me?" he asked angrily.

She rolled her eyes and cocked her head to one side. "I didn't call you nothing, Pony Boy. I told you to beat it. I ain't in the mood today, now leave me alone. I'm not at your precious Sheepshead Bay. Now go."

"Oh no, I ain't leaving this time. Not until I know for sure you will not be back there." He plopped down onto the curb, removing his hat and tossing it next to him. "I'm staying right here."

"Sohn einer Hündin," she muttered under her breath. "Fine, I'll go. I was done anyways." She snatched up her copy of the newspaper and folded it before tucking it under her arm. She stormed off in the direction of Brooklyn, kicking dirt back onto him as she walked.

"Yeah, that's right! Leave!" he called triumphantly, but she was either too far away to hear him or chose to ignore it.

Racetrack stood back up and dusted off his trousers. Now that that had been taken care of, he needed to find Jack. And he knew just where he'd be at this hour.

* * *

Jack was sitting on the fire escape, his head in Sarah's lap when Race trotted up.

"Heya Jack, heya Sarah," Race called, giving them a little wave. "I hate to break up your little rendezvous, if you will. But I just got back from talking to Spot." Racetrack glanced at Sarah and she took it as her cue to leave.

She stood up and Jack's head hit the stoop with a clang.

"Ouch! Jesus, Sarah." Jack exclaimed, rubbing the back of his head.

She let out a soft giggle. "I'm sorry, Jack. I figured this was important though. I'll give you guys some privacy." Jack gave her a cheeky grin. "Don't worry, we won't be long. I'll be in shortly."

Sarah blushed crimson and turned to climb through the window.

Racetrack waited until she was out of earshot. "Okay so first of all, the meeting started off how I expected it would. He almost didn't talk to me. Said he didn't need my 'assistance'," he told him, putting little quotes around the word with his fingers.

"Did you really expect anything less though, Race? I mean, you swindled Cub out of his money, knowing full well that the money you took was the money Cub owed to Spot. Spot had to make an example out of the kid. You're lucky he didn't bust you with his cane," Jack remarked.

"Alright, I get it. You gonna let me finish or what?" Race waited for Jack to interject again. When he stayed silent, Race continued. "So to make a long story short, Spot can't find his guys."

Jack looked dumbfounded. "Can't find 'em?"

Race huffed annoyed. "That's what I said."

"He can't find his guys?"

"What are you, a fucking parrot? Yes! Can't find some of the girls either. They're all just..." he made a noise with his mouth and waved a hand under his chin.

Jack looked up thoughtfully, stroking the side of his face. His eyes looked dark, a drastic change from just moments ago. "He wasn't lying then. This is pretty serious stuff. I heard rumors going around that Shank from Queens has lost some fellas. Midtown too. Did Spot have a plan?"

Race shook his head. "He said you guys would meet up later, talk tactics. He's calling a meeting of the boroughs, and he wants you there. I expect he'll send someone to tell you the date and time later. But he did ask if we've lost anyone too. Got me thinking. You seen O'Mahoney lately?"

"Not since the 4th. And it's the 15th now." Jack frowned. "Huh. He usually isn't gone for more than a week, is he?"

"No, never more than that." He furrowed his brows and chewed on his cigar. O'Mahoney was damn stupid. Reckless even. But he never waited longer than a week to turn back up. The thought of him being missing sent an icy chill up his spine.

"We'll keep an eye out, see if we notice anyone else disappearing. I'll coordinate with Spot and see if we can get some ideas going. We're all bound to figure something out." He sighed and shook his head to clear it. "In the meantime, I'm gonna go back in here with Sarah. Poker later tonight?" he asked.

Race gave him a toothy grin and nodded. Jack turned to climb through the window before Racetrack stopped him.

"Wait, I forgot to tell you, I saw that girl again."

"Oh yeah?"

Yeah. And this time, she was in your spot."


	3. Hotter Than Satan's Armpit

AN: This chapter is a shorter one. I just needed to provide a small bit of backstory on how people know each other and why. There might be a few of chapters like these just to make it more cohesive and tie everything together. I really hope this story is getting views. It might take me a while to update because ya know... life. But I am using all the free time I can spare to write. Leave comments and favorite and follow and all that jazz. I don't own Newsies.

**Hotter Than Satan's Armpit**

It was the middle of August and no one could say that it didn't feel that way. Everything felt like it was on fire and the girl just wanted to be done selling so she could treat herself to a nice cold Coca Cola. She had found this diner in Manhattan that she had quite liked called Tibby's and she had stationed herself about twenty yards from the entrance. This was her selling spot for the day and it wasn't really working out like she had hoped. She was having trouble getting the attention of passersby. The headlines were shit and everyone was in a hurry to get to their destinations to get out of the sweltering heat.

After another failed attempt to collect coin from a rather stuffy gentleman, she gave up and sat down, fanning herself with her copy of the paper that she always bought. She thought moving up north would be cooler temperature wise than living in Chatham County, but this was just ridiculous. It felt like someone had taken the whole state of New York and shoved it into the depths of hell, right under Satan's armpit. She never would have come here if she didn't have to, and knew she wouldn't return when it was time to pack up and leave in a few short months. Maybe shorter than that if she got a tip soon that lead her elsewhere.

She stood up and gathered her papers off the curb, deciding she had worked this spot long enough. She'd be damned if she wasted all day here and had nothing to show for it. She was rewarding herself with a Cola for all her hard work, whether she had the money to spare for it or not. She turned to walk towards Tibby's before she heard something that made her stop in her tracks. Someone was calling her name. The voice was strangely familiar. She whipped around and a huge grin spread across her freckled face. It was familiar alright.

"Flash? Flash! Holy shit, it really is you! Don't move, I'm coming over!" Jack shouted. He sprinted towards her, his signature red bandana bright in the sun. He reached her and crouched down, his hands on his knees. "Jesus, I never thought I'd see your mug again. And definitely not in these parts," he told her in between breaths. He stood back up, towering over her small frame.

She beamed up at him. "Am I seeing things or is that really you, Jack?"

"In the flesh," he grinned back at her. "What's it been, three years? How ya been? What brings you here?"

Flash couldn't contain her excitement any longer and reached out to give him a hug, breathing in his familiar scent. It somehow made her feel a little more at ease. "Same old same old," she breathed into the starchy fabric of his shirt. "Been moving town to town since our escape. Never staying in one place too long. Ya know how it is." She released him and gazed back up into his hazel eyes. They always had a light in them and she was happy to see that hadn't changed over the years.

Jack nodded and threw an arm around her, giving her another half hug. "God, I wondered what happened to you after we got separated. I thought for sure they caught you and threw you back in the clink. I thought about going back for you countless times that night."

Flash shrugged and gave him another smile, her cheeks bunching up around her eyes. She nodded her head toward the diner and Jack knew she meant for him to follow her.

They walked jauntily to the door, his arm not leaving her shoulders until they made it there. He unwrapped himself from her and held the door open for her and they both stepped through the threshold. The ceiling fans blew air on them and Flash basked in it, happy to finally be out of the sun.

"This one looks good," Jack said, making his way to a table in the back corner of the room. He slid into a chair and beckoned for Flash to take the one across from him.

Flash sat down and ordered her long-awaited Cola before turning back to him to continue their conversation.

"I almost did get caught, you know. But I managed to hide until the guards ran past me. I didn't stop running until I thought I was going to pass out. I skipped town and made it all the way to West Virginia before I found somewhere to stay. I figured it was far enough away to avoid getting caught again."

"Any luck on finding..." he trailed off once he saw her shaking her head.

"Still nothing. I've picked up on a few clues here and there but nothing has come of them. That's why I'm here actually. Following the trail." The waitress returned with their drinks and Flash took a hearty swig from her bottle, letting the sweet taste sit on her tongue before swallowing. "I'm still hopeful though. What would I be without hope?" She shrugged it off. "What about you though? When did you get to New York? And where are the others?" She asked, desperate to change the subject.

"Been here for the past two and a half years. We made a stop in Pennsylvania before I made it this way. That's where Millie and her brother Daniel are. Skipper too. They got jobs as farmhands. I don't hear from them much nowadays, just the occasional letter here and there. They are trying to keep a low profile."

"What about Marjorie? Where is she?" Flash pressed, hungry for more information.

Jack grimaced and furrowed his brow. It took a minute before he finally spoke. "She... she got caught. I'm so sorry Flash. I saw it happen. I wanted to go back for her, I swear, but the guards were right on our tail. The warden too. There was nothing we could do," he finished softly.

Flash's face fell and she felt her heart drop to her stomach. "Oh. Well that's not the news I was expecting. She sat in silence for a few minutes, thinking about what could possibly be happening to Marjorie that exact moment, if she was even still alive. She let out an exasperated groan. "I could kill Russo for having such a loud mouth. We could have made it out. All of us. Scott free. Fuck him." She slammed her fist on the table causing some disapproving looks from the other patrons of the restaurant.

Jack let out a low chuckle. "He got caught too. Bastard. Never much cared for him anyways. Such a dumbass."

Flash wasn't really paying attention to him, thinking back on the consequences of trying to escape the Coosa County jail instead. She shuddered at her memories of the wretched place. The abuse was almost too much to handle at times, even for someone so seasoned to it like herself. She couldn't even begin to imagine how badly they had punished the others who had not made it out like she had. All the lashings, drowning, starvation, beatings. Not even that bastard Russo deserved what went on there. It was worse for the girls most of the time. She felt a chill up her spine, almost having flashbacks of the whole ordeal. Marjorie was such a kind soul, and she couldn't stand to think of the bad things happening to her.

"So where are you staying?" Jack's question shocked her back into reality. "Anywhere I know?"

"Oh. Just around. You know how it is." She shrugged. She didn't really feel like telling him she'd been sleeping in alleys since arriving to New York two weeks prior. Jack had always been like a brother to her from the day they met, always looking out for her when he could. He'd make some kind of big fuss and worry if he knew the truth.

"Around? What does that mean?" Jack asked her suspiciously. Jack could tell when she was hiding something. After all these years, she still hadn't lost her big tell. She always said 'You know how it is' when not being entirely truthful about something. About 99 percent of the time, she uttered those words.

Flash let out a long sigh. "Just around, okay? Enough about me, already. I want to know about you." She took another sip of her Cola, trying to get rid of the bad taste that her words had left; but it wasn't sweet anymore. It was bitter in her mouth.

Jack studied her face, weary from the years of stress and sadness. He decided it was best not to press the issue any further. "Not much really. Hanging out with my pals. Selling papes. Living the American dream." He gave her a crooked grin.

Flash chuckled and shook her head. "Good ol' US of A. Gotta love it."

"Hey so listen, I'd love for you to meet my boys. Come on with me to the lodging house. They should be heading back soon. You can meet Blink and Mush. Oh and I have this one pal that I think you're gonna love. He's funny like you and a gambler. His name is-"

"I don't know, Jack. I don't think it's such a great idea," Flash said cutting him off. "I'm never sure how long I'll be sticking around and I shouldn't risk getting attached, ya know? It just makes things more difficult for everyone involved. Besides, I still have all these papes to sell." Flash gestured to her papers and gave them a little tap.

Flash glanced up at Jack and noticed the disappointment beginning to creep up on his face, the usual glimmer in his eyes gone. She hadn't seen him in so long and she really had missed him. He and the others were the only things that made life in that hellhole bearable. What harm could meeting his friends really do? It's not like they'd have much time to get close anyways.

Flash sighed and raised an eyebrow. "Okay, fine," she sighed again, giving into his request. She saw the dark cloud lift from his expression. "But not today. I seriously do have to finish selling. I'm running out of daylight."

Jack gave her a nod, happy that she had relented. "Okay, fair enough. How about tomorrow then?" he finished his drink and continued. "We can meet here as the sun is setting."

Flash nodded in approval. "Sounds like a plan. I really do have to be going though, Jack." She lifted the bottle to her lips and chugged the remaining contents before gathering up her things. "It'll take some time for me to make it over the bridge. I'll see you tomorrow." She stood and gave him a quick pat on the back before making her way outside.

Jack gave her a quizzical look and trailed out the door behind her. "The bridge? You been staying in Brooklyn?"

Flash paused, mulling over his question to figure out why that was so concerning. "Well yeah. I've been selling all over, but I mostly been confined to the Brooklyn area."

Jack clicked his tongue and shook his head. She really needed to be taught the ways around here if she didn't want to end up crippled or worse. She had to be warned. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. The Brooklynites... well a lot of them are bad news. We kinda got a truce with them if you will. Mutual respect. But no one dares to go there without permission. I hope you got that at least."

She outright laughed at his remark. "Permission? From who? Last I checked, my parents were dead."

"Just be careful out there. Those Brooklyn boys are not ones to fool around. Especially not their leader. I'll explain more tomorrow, but just keep a low profile for now, okay? No stepping on any toes."

Flash let out a low snort. Boys in New York were far too intense for her liking. "Yeah, okay. I'll be fine. Honestly, what is the worst thing that could happen?"

"You really don't want the answer to that," Jack mumbled. "Just watch yourself."

Flash gave him a small wave, sweeping off his warning. "I'll see you tomorrow, Jack." She gave him a smile before heading off towards the bridge.

"Seriously, for the last time, be careful!" Jack called to her.

"Always am!" she tossed back over her shoulder, causing Jack to smile.

It quickly faded when he remembered the last person to step foot in Brooklyn without permission and what had happened to him.

"Jesus, watch out for that one," he said to himself. He said a silent prayer as he watched Flash disappear into the distance.


	4. You A Gimp Or Something?

**You A Gimp or Something?**

The sounds of splashing and giggles filled Spot's ears before he had a chance to see what was causing all the noise. They were out of place here, in the place that was his quiet sanctuary. Emphasis on his.

The girl went under, her feet poking up to form a point above the water and Spot couldn't help but wonder where she had come from.

He strolled to the end of his pier and leaned over the railing to glare at her. She hadn't noticed him so Spot continued to observe her, watching the way the waves lapped across the back of her shoulders. Her hair swirled behind her as she lay on her back, looking content.

"Who the hell are you?" Spot inquired, giving the girl a suspicious look.

She yelped and spun around in the water to face him.

The first thing to grab her attention were his eyes, bluer than any that she had seen before. They had a certain gleam in them, one she couldn't distinguish. They instilled a strange feeling in her, causing the blood to pool into her stomach. His mouth was set in a frown and his brow was furrowed.

"Jesus, you scared me! It's not polite to sneak up on someone like that, you know." She snapped at him.

Spot blinked slowly in response and his frowned deepened. Polite? She was on his property, but he was the one that was impolite? Despite being thoroughly annoyed, Spot couldn't help but be amused as well.

"It's not polite to trespass either, yet here you are." He shrugged, moving his hands from the railing up to his hat. He removed it and ran a hand through his hair before setting it down on the dock. "Seriously, who the hell are you and what are you doing here?"

Flash scoffed at him and rolled her eyes. "I guess I'm going to have to get used to the lack of a proper greeting up here. Honestly, I could ask you the same thing. You are the one who scared me after all."

Spot was dumbfounded. He found it hard to believe that she didn't know who he was. His reputation usually proceeded him. "You're joking, right? Everyone from these parts knows of me. I'm the King. I'm a celebrity," he smirked at her, still in disbelief.

She gave him a blank expression and Spot felt his face grow warm. He took pride in everyone knowing his name. He relished in it. It gave him joy to know that guys and girls alike respected and even feared him. To have someone in Brooklyn, or even New York, that didn't recognize him or know about him was frankly unheard of.

"Am I supposed to?" She smirked.

"Well... yeah. You must not be from around here."

Flash stopped floating and treaded the water instead. She met his gaze and nodded. He gave her a smug smile and nodded back, crossing his arms and jutting his chin forward. Normally his cocky demeanor would have caused her to run for the hills, but there was something about him that cemented her in place. He had a certain je ne sais quoi about him and Flash couldn't put her finger on what was really keeping her from slapping the shit out of him.

"That explains it then," he stated matter-of-factly.

The way he was looking at her trapped her there but also made her want to knock him down a peg or two to wipe that smile off his face.

"You ever stop and think you're just not as important as you think you are?" she huffed, raising an eyebrow. His smile faltered just a little, but it gave her the satisfaction she was craving.

Spot knelt to sit down on the edge, hoping that this girl had enough sense not to try to pull him in. Judging by her brashness, he wasn't letting his guard down just yet. He crouched down a little lower, leaning closer to her and peered into her bright green eyes, a coolness in his voice. "Not possible, sweetheart. I could tell you stories of things I've done that'd have you hauling ass back to whatever place you came here from. You couldn't even begin to imagine." Spot narrowed his eyes, just enough to try and intimidate her. Flash took note in his change of tone, but she didn't feel the least bit nervous. In fact, it was familiar, almost comforting. She dealt with callousness more in her past than anything else.

"What kind of answer is that?"

"The only one you're getting."

Flash tamped down on a particularly rude comment, giving Spot a good once over instead. Her eyes went straight to a rather large cane he had tucked into one of his suspenders, the gold tip blinding in the sunlight.

Spot noticed the pensive expression on her face and frowned. "What? What are you looking at?"

"What's with the cane? You a gimp or something?" she asked nonchalantly.

"Do I look like a gimp to you?" Spot snapped, causing Flash to let out a giggle.

"You look like a lot of things, kid. Nothing that I'd feel comfortable sharing with you. You ain't gotta be so rude about my question. It's an honest one. If you ain't a gimp, why else would you carry around a stick that's about as big as you?" Flash gave him a toothy grin, satisfied with her retort.

Spot ignored the last statement in her question, letting her slide. "I use it for busting skulls."

"That sounds barbaric."

"Gets the job done." Spot shrugged.

"Well placed jabs with fists work just as well." She gave him a sly look. "But I do understand that some people just don't have the necessary skills for that."

"My hands work just fine, thanks," Spot shot back. "Better than yours probably do," he added.

Flash smirked and laced her fingers behind her head. "Don't be too sure about that, pretty boy."

"I could show you, if you'd like. Although I must admit, I do have some reservations about soaking broads," he told her, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Flash gasped in mock awe. "A gentleman, you are. And they say that chivalry is a dying trait."

Spot chuckled at that and sighed. Normally he wouldn't let someone speak to him the way she was, but this was kind of fun. No one was around to hear it and they didn't know each other from a hole in the ground, so he didn't see the harm in their banter. Spot was always trying to maintain his leader front, so it felt nice to just let it all disappear for a while.

"Keep talking to me like that and I might have to reconsider."

"Look at me, I'm trembling."

"And I thought that's because the water was cold," Spot said grinning. He wanted to make this girl squirm for his own amusement and he was sure she wasn't immune to his charms. He let a silence creep up on them, contemplating his next words.

"My hands are good for other things too, ya know." Spot gave her a cheeky grin and his remark caused Flash to blush a deep scarlet.

"How brazen of you," she managed to say in the midst of her embarrassment.

Spot noticed her getting flustered and smiled to himself, but she was able to bounce back quickly, all traces of embarrassment gone from her features.

"You use that on all the girls you meet here?" she asked him sarcastically.

Spot gave her a small shrug and ran his cane through his fingers "Seeing as how you're the first person with the gall to trespass here, I suppose so. I forgive you for that, by the way."

"Oh please, like that line would actually work on anyone. Maybe a cheap piece of skirt, but not anyone with half a brain. You're just gonna have to come up with something better, because I'm not so easily charmed," she scoffed.

Spot gave her another shrug. "Never had a problem with that before," he said coolly. "I got girls lined up, little bird. The girls I get with want me, they pursue me, and they give themselves fully unto me. I never have to use a line because they are all practically begging me to take them to bed."

Flash didn't let his cheeky explanation get the better of her. She couldn't let him see the change in her color again. She couldn't let him know that his words caused a pleasant numbness to seep throughout her limbs and caused her toes to go cold. She couldn't let him know that in that moment, she undoubtedly wanted to see what the inside of his bed looked like. His bluntness and candid demeanor were like being let up for air, and it was intoxicating. But he could never know, for he would win this whole... Whatever this was they had drafted up between them. And she didn't like losing.

Flash dove under the water, staying under for as long as she possibly could. She only resurfaced when her lungs were screaming for air. This had given way for enough time for her face to be back to its original pale color. She couldn't think of a response to him, choosing to fill her mouth with water and spit it at him instead. It missed him, landing on the dock beside him instead.

"You know fish piss in that water, right?"

Flash waved his observation off. "I've had much worse things in my mouth," she told him, watching him out of the corner of her eye. If he could play this game, so could she. But to her dismay, her comment had no physical effect on him.

Spot chuckled before looking back down at her, curiously. "You sure you don't know who I am?" He asked her suspiciously.

Flash rolled her eyes and sighed. "We've established that if I remember correctly. Guess you really aren't as famous as you thought."

"Infamous," Spot murmured.

"Infamous then," she mocked. "You should work on that."

He gave her his signature half smile. "Oh I plan to, little bird. You need to learn how things work around here," he challenged. "Case in point, you traipsing into Brooklyn uninvited."

"I don't traipse into Brooklyn all willy nilly. I live here, shithead."

"Not without permission, you don't," Spot said shaking his head.

Flash laughed. "An invite? Permission? What, is Brooklyn some exclusive party now? Do I need a signed letter from the Governor too?"

"Nope. But you need approval. By me."

"This isn't the White House. It's just Brooklyn."

Spot shook his head again. "I can see now that talking to you is pointless."

"So shut up then."

"How brazen of you," he mimicked her comment from before. "Or just plain stupid."

Flash gave him a snort before swimming closer to the pier. "There is that charm you were so keen on showing. I'm suddenly in love with you."

He gave her a sly grin. "You wouldn't be the first."

"Trust me kid, that's never gonna happen. Might fall in love with me though, not that I could blame you," she teased, pulling herself up onto the dock. It was going to be dark soon and she had to meet up with Jack at Tibby's.

"I find that hard to believe."

Flash hurriedly got dressed, slipping her pants up her wet legs and over her knickers. She tugged her shirt on and buttoned it before bending down to gather up the rest of her things. She shoved what she could in her pockets and hoped that the sun would stay up long enough to dry her off before making it back to Manhattan.

Flash gave Spot a half smirk. "You just might," she singsonged before turning away from him to make her way back down the dock.

"Where are you going?" he questioned, confused by her sudden departure. "This was just getting interesting."

She turned back to face him and gave him an innocent look. "Sorry father, I didn't realize you had to give me permission to leave Brooklyn too. I have a prior engagement."

"Ya know, we're gonna have to work on your tone you use with me if we're going to see each other again," Spot said flippantly.

"And who said I wanted to see you again?" Flash queried.

"You'd be dumb not to," Spot stated matter-of-factly.

"Call me stupid then."

"Stupid."

"Ha," She laughed dryly.

"Tomorrow. Same time," he ordered, not giving her a chance to protest further.

"Is this an invitation?" She feigned incredulousness before giving him a wry smile.

"Now you're getting it," he chuckled, giving her a smug expression.

Flash thought for a moment, pondering what Jack had said about these Brooklyn guys. Try as he might, this boy didn't seem nearly as threatening as he intended.

"Well my mamma always did tell me it was rude to decline one of those." Flash didn't see the harm in playing his little game. In fact, she was secretly pleased. She hadn't had someone to talk to since coming here. No one that wanted to be in her company besides Jack.

"Smart woman, your mother."

"I guess I'll be here, as long as you promise to get in the water next time. It was mighty lonely in there. Now try not to miss me too much while I'm gone. I know that'll be difficult for you."

Spot met her gaze. Her sarcastic nature and witty comebacks were a breath of fresh air compared to the swooning of all the other girls and the timid dispositions of the guys under him.

"Doubtful," he teased back.

"You'll see, pretty boy," she told him winking before making her way past the crates back up to the main part of the dock.

"Wait, I didn't catch your name," Spot called out to her.

"I didn't throw it. No names," she tossed back over her shoulder. "Let's just leave it for now. Au revoir!"


	5. Best Pickpocket in the South

**Best Pickpocket in the South**

It was near dark and Racetrack sped up to a slow jog, his haul of coin jingling in his pockets as he whistled to their sound. He was in a tremendously chipper mood. After nearly three weeks of winning squat, he'd finally managed to pull a bet that had proved to be fruitful. His luck was turning around and the thought caused him to have an almost dance in his step. He broke into a full-on sprint once he saw the lodging house looming in the distance. He wasn't athletic in any sense of the word, his stature too short for him to be good at most things physical other than fighting, but he was willing to break a leg if that meant rubbing his pal's noses in it all the faster.

Race took each step two at a time, eager to tell the fellas his news. He barreled through the doorway and into the lobby, rushing up to the table that his friends were situated at.

"Who is laughing now, boys?" he shouted with glee, leaning over to smack Kid Blink's hat off his head. Kid Blink bent down to pick it up, grumbling something about mussing up his good hat, but Race wasn't listening. "You guys told me I was wasting my time, that I was an idiot for trekking to Sheepshead every day. Well I fucking did it! I won! So you sons-a-bitches can cool it with the smartass remarks! 'Cause Racetrack Higgins ain't no idiot!" He pulled out a cigar and beamed triumphantly at them, his eyes scanning each of their faces before landing on one that caused his own to drop.

"You!" he bellowed, pointing a finger. "What are YOU doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," Flash said coolly. "But please, do carry on. It was nice to see you with something other than a scowl on your face. I was beginning to think you had no other expression."

Jack frowned and looked between the two of them. "You two know each other?"

Racetrack gestured toward Flash with one hand, his cigar in the other. "This is the broad, Jack. The one from Sheepshead. The one that told me I needed to learn manners."

"Seems like you still need work on that," Flash remarked, causing Racetrack to shoot her a dirty look.

Jack let out a hearty laugh before lightly punching Flash on the arm. "You're the one that got my pal Race in such a tizzy? Why does that not surprise me, Flash? You always knew how to push a person's buttons."

Flash let out a groan and rubbed her face with her hands. "Yes, unfortunately I had the displeasure of meeting Pony Boy earlier this week. Not once, but twice. What was it you told me, Race? To go play with my dolls and leave the selling to the real men?"

This got a laugh from around the table and Race reached out to smack Kid Blink's hat off his head again. Racetrack made a face and turned to glare at the girl. "Don't call me that."

"Call you what?" Flash asked him wide eyed. "Pony Boy?"

"Yes," Racetrack hissed through gritted teeth. "And don't call me Race. That's reserved for certain people. Can't find stuff of your own so you gotta resort to thieving? First my spot, then my chair," he gestured toward where she was sitting, "And my friends? Dammit, can't I have something without you taking it?"

Flash held up her hands in defense, and tilted her head to the side. "Technically, Jack was my friend first. You took him from me. Hate to burst your bubble and all."

"That's neither here nor there," Race grumbled and waved his hands. "Blink, Mush, Itey, let's go. We don't need bad company."

The guys looked at each other and back up to Racetrack. When they didn't move, Racetrack snapped his fingers in front of their faces, trying to spark some sort of confirmation that they were tagging along. All three of them shook their heads, causing Flash to let out a giggle.

Flash sat back in her chair and propped her feet up on the table. Race's attitude towards her was getting tiresome and all she wanted to do was enjoy the company of people that she hoped to one day call her friends. Racetrack being at her throat every time he got a glimpse of her was really putting a damper on things.

"Does Spot know you're here? You usually have to ask to attend one of our poker nights. I swear, I'm going to talk to him tomorrow. Try to placate him so he will keep you the hell away from me," Racetrack threatened.

Flash let out another groan and rolled her eyes before speaking to him slowly. "How many times do I gotta tell you, I don't know who Spot is. I have no damn clue what in the hell you are talking about."

Racetrack looked at her with a frown before scratching his head. Now he wasn't so sure that Spot had anything to do with this girl. Maybe he wasn't sending her just to get under his skin like he had originally thought. "So you really don't work for Spot?" he asked, his voice getting a little quieter than before.

"For the thousandth time, NO. I don't know who that is. But don't worry, Racetrack. I won't be selling at Sheepshead no more. I found my own place." Flash crossed her arms smugly, a look of glee on her face.

"And where is that?" Jack asked, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"I got the idea the other day to sell outside pubs," she stated proudly.

Racetrack snorted. "That's hardly a place. I tried that. Good luck."

Flash gave him a complacent grin. "Don't need luck when you got these," she said gesturing towards her chest.

Everyone's face turned a bright red and they all suddenly found the table to be quite interesting, except for Jack who burst out laughing. "Good old Flash, telling it like it is. That why they call you that now? You flashing people?"

Flash grinned at him. "You know why they call me that. And it's not because I show them my bare chest. In all seriousness though, I appreciate your well wishes and concern for my luck, Racetrack. But I know what I'm doing. Those guys that come out would buy a rusty can from me if I tried. All I gotta do is bat my eyes and giggle. Doesn't matter what I sell them, they're too drunk to notice anything but me."

"I wasn't concerned," Racetrack said flatly.

Mush waved his hand over the table in interjection. "Alright, alright, I gotta know. Why do they call you Flash?"

Flash puffed out her chest and jutted her chin towards Mush. "Best pick pocket in the South. Never get caught."

"Except for you did get caught," Jack pointed out.

"Shut up, Kelly, don't remind me."

"That's how you met then?" Kid Blink asked them, leaning back in his chair.

"We were just about to tell you the story until someone," she shot Racetrack a dirty look, "had to go and ruin all the fun with his incessant ranting."

Race plopped down in an empty chair and took out a pack of cards, shuffling them in his hands with a quickness that Flash found impressive, not that she'd ever admit it to him. "I'd hardly call listening to you 'fun.' You got a voice that would irritate a deaf man."

"Cool it, Race,' Jack warned, shooting him a disapproving look. "We're all pals here."

Flash gave him the finger behind Jack's back and took her feet off the table, letting her chair land back on all fours with a hard thud, startling the guys and grabbing their attention.

"Saddle up, boys. This is quite the tale," she half smiled and took out a cigarette, clamping it down on one side of her mouth. "So, as I said before, I'm the best pickpocket in the South. A real flashman, hence the name. It's a self-given title, I'll admit, but it's true nonetheless. I never get caught. Except for one time, and I would've gotten away with it if the bulls hadn't actually seen me lift the pocket watch out of the man's coat. I'm still kicking myself for that little error."

Race gave Flash a look before dealing out the cards. "Well that was stupid on your part. That's a rookie mistake."

Flash took her cards from the table and flipped through them. Of course he would deal her a shitty hand. "Can't say I disagree," she conceded, not looking up from her cards.

Race looked around the table and raised his eyebrows, shocked that she didn't take the bait at his obvious jab at her intellect.

Jack shot Race another disapproving look and thumbed through his cards. "So it landed her in the Coosa County jail down in Alabama," Jack continued, picking up where she left off. "I was doing a five-month stint for fighting. I know that sounds a little excessive, but those bastards added time for everything you did wrong. Even if you didn't do nothing, they found a reason to lengthen your stay. That place made the refuge look like a vacation spot."

"What kind of stuff happened there?" Kid Blink asked inquisitively.

"Torture," Flash cut in. "Starvation, dehydration. A bunch of stuff like that. I don't really wanna get too much into it. Those were dark times. Let's just say, to put it in the plainest terms, it sucked."

"That's an understatement," Jack muttered. "Anyways, we talked at length with a few people we had made friends with in there, and we all decided it was best to escape. Our sentences were well past what they were supposed to be and we knew we wouldn't get out any time soon."

"Gotta admit, we were a mouthy bunch. That's partly why they kept adding on to our punishments. We all had time added for one reason or another," Flash added. "I fold."

"There's a shocker," Racetrack snorted, putting more money into the pile.

"Will you shut up?" Flash snapped, biting down on her cigarette and blowing smoke out of the side of her mouth. "I'm in the middle of a story."

Jack threw his cards down on the table in a huff. "I fold too. Dammit, Race, you could have given me better cards."

Racetrack held his hands up defensively before scraping his winnings toward himself. "Don't blame the dealer, blame your luck, Cowboy." He shuffled the cards and dealt again.

Flash made sure to keep her eye on him this time. She didn't quite trust Racetrack and she wouldn't put it past him to cheat.

"How'd you do it then?" Mush asked, clearly skeptical. He obviously didn't think this story was true.

"Yeah, Governor let you out that time too, Kelly?" Kid Blink chuckled and perused his cards. Flash could see something in his one eye, and she knew he must have some pretty decent cards.

Flash took a look at her own cards and suppressed a groan. Racetrack hadn't done her any favors, that's for sure. She definitely couldn't afford to keep giving away her money and she figured this would be her last hand.

Flash blinked in confusion, just now registering what Blink had said. "What is he talking about?" she asked, peering at Jack over her cards.

Jack shook his head dismissively. "Story for another time, Flash. We got lots to catch up on, you and me."

Flash gave him a wide-eyed stare. It didn't surprise her that Jack would have some crazy stories to fill her in on. He was a natural leader, charming and resourceful. Loyal to a fault. But he also tended to lie and over exaggerate. She had to take most of what he said and dial it back a few notches, therein lay the truth.

She shook her head to clear it and threw down her cards. "I'm done. I fold again."

Racetrack let out a chuckle and she kicked the leg of his chair. "I wouldn't have to if someone knew how to deal a girl some cards she could actually use."

Racetrack took his cigar out of his mouth and gave her a smug grin. "What, and do you a favor? I don't throw no bones when it comes to my game. This is something I'm good at, and if you don't like it, you don't have to play."

Flash rolled her eyes and sighed. "Jesus, you took that way too seriously. It was just a joke. Now where was I? I seemed to have lost my place in the story."

"Tunnel," Jack murmured out of the side of his mouth, still examining his cards.

"Ah, yes, the tunnel," Flash said, giving Jack a nod of thanks. "We decided to wait for a night where someone died. You see, they used the underground tunnel to transport dead bodies out of the grounds. A lot of people died under mysterious circumstances, so they would move them in the dead of night to avoid arousing suspicion. They would just tell families that asked that they had released them, and didn't know where they had disappeared to after that."

Mush made a disgusted face and looked around the table. "That's horrible. What kind of person would do something like that? Just lie to someone's family and have them looking for them, knowing that they were rotting in a hole in the ground. That's some messed up shit."

Flash nodded in agreement. "It was bad. Finally, the night came where Marvin, God rest his soul, died from dehydration."

"Nice guy. Always shared his food with people that got theirs taken away as punishment. He didn't deserve to die like that," Jack said solemnly. "Anyways, so we crept down to the tunnel when knew it would be unlocked. There was this window of time between transportation that the door would be able to be opened up. We took off down the tunnels and hightailed it out of there. We had just made it to the end, the smell of the outdoors in our nostrils, when this loud mouth son of a bitch in our group named Russo decided to be a pansy. He saw a rat and screamed like a baby."

"The guards had noticed we weren't there for bed check, so they had been searching for us. His screams echoed off the walls and alerted them to where we were. I swear, I wanted to kill him for that shit," Flash added. She felt old anger start to bubble in her stomach like hot liquid in a cauldron when she thought about what Russo did and the damages it had caused to Marjorie's freedom. If she was dead, she hoped that he was alive to live with the guilt of what his actions had caused.

Racetrack shook his head and glanced up at Flash. She wasn't sure, but she thought she saw a glimmer of sympathy in his eyes. "I would have, pigeon-livered moron. I would have soaked him something fierce."

She gave him a small smile, nodding her head in appreciation. "For once, we agree on something, Higgins."

Racetrack let his gaze fall back down to his hand of cards, quick to dismantle any semblance of them getting along. He definitely didn't want her to have the wrong idea and think they were friends now because he had shown her a lick of sympathy. None of that negated the fact that she was still irritating and her presence got under his skin. Racetrack replaced the foreign look on his face with his signature scowl. "Yeah, well don't get used to it," he remarked under his breath.

"I'll wear you down somehow, Racetrack," Flash told him with a grin.

Mush snapped in front of their faces, drawing their attention back to the table. "Enough chit-chat, get on with the story," he prodded.

"It's best that I tell the rest, 'cause that is where the stories split," Jack divulged. "We could hear the guards in the tunnel running toward us, so we took off outside. We didn't realize it was storming until we made it out. It was coming down in sheets and we couldn't see where we were going. I didn't notice at the time, but our friend Marjorie was trying to coax Russo out of the tunnel. I didn't know until it was too late." Jack hung his head and avoided eye contact with Flash before forcing himself to look back up and continue. "The warden showed up and ordered the guards to haul them back inside. The remaining guards flooded out of the tunnel, almost like a stampede. I pushed the others ahead of me so that if anyone got caught, it would be me. I went to do the same to Flash, but she wasn't there. Between all the running, rain, darkness, and fear, we got separated. I honestly thought she got caught too. I didn't see her again until yesterday, the first time in three years," Jack finished.

"That's rough," Mush told them, throwing his cards down on the table.

Flash gauged everyone else's reaction around the table, sizing them up to see if they had any look of doubt on their faces. Kid Blink and Mush looked sympathetic. Itey had a vacant expression on his face and Race... well Race just looked the same as usual, signature furrow of the brow and slight frown that his face held normally.

"i guess it's my turn to pick it up now," Flash drawled. "There is a somewhat happy ending to this tale of sadness, so wipe those looks off your faces. I obviously made it out, since I'm sitting here before you. I managed to hide in the bushes and as soon as the coast was clear, I ran to the road and hitched a ride on the back of a wagon. They were able to take me all the way to West Virginia where I met Sally. Nice broad, very motherly," she added. "Sally ran a Tavern and Inn and let me stay there in exchange for doing household chores for her. Longest I've stayed anywhere if I'm being honest."

Racetrack gathered up the cards and put them back in his pocket, along with his winnings. Leave it to the rest of them to flake out on a hand because of a story. He had to admit, it was kind of unbelievable, but it had piqued his interest. So much so that it got him wondering where exactly this girl came from and why she was here if things were so great back in West Virginia.

"Well why didn't you stay there then?" Race prodded. "Warm bed, food. Hell, sounds good to me."

Flash was taken aback at Racetrack's sudden interest in her life and her reasonings in leaving the place she had called home for a while. He hadn't so much as said hello to her before and now here he was, trying to be invasive. She was silent for a moment, using the pause in conversation to take a peek at Jack. Jack gave her a knowing look, aware of the circumstances that had caused her to move from place to place. She had trusted him enough to tell him the truth, but the same could not be said for any of the others that were sat around the table. There was a time and place for the truth and she knew it may come out eventually, but today was not that day.

"Yeah, well shit happens. I've moved around a lot in my life. I started in North Carolina and from there I went south. South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, Tennesse for like a day, and then to Sally's. On to Pennsylvania and then here," Flash explained.

Mush shook his head and gave her a pointed look. "I don't know how you have the energy to do all that. I barely have the energy to walk down to Bottle Alley and back. To move to another state not once, but so many times is just... wow," he remarked in disbelief. He stood up quickly from the table and motioned for Flash to follow him.

"Where are we going?" Flash asked him perplexed.

"Going to go get a drink, I'm buying. Just gotta pick your poison," Mush told her with a smile.

"Well hot damn. I think we're gonna get along just fine, Mush," she grinned, following him to the door. "Y'all care to join us?"

Blink and Itey nodded enthusiastically before standing and making their way to the threshold. Race stood to follow suit before Jack stopped him.

"We'll meet you guys there. Race and I need to have a word first. Try not to get too soused before we make it there," Jack joked.

Flash gave him a toothy grin. "No promises." She turned to follow the rest of the gang outside, leaving the other two alone.

Jack made sure everyone was out of earshot before turning to face Racetrack. "Skinner is gone, Race. And so is Mick. That makes three guys I've noticed disappear in the last couple of days. Spot wasn't wrong, something is going on. I need to meet with him soon. Send Boots to deliver a message to him. Don't be specific, I don't want to spark any flames or make any waves to cause worry."

Racetrack knit his eyebrows together and set his mouth in a hard line. He thought Spot was just blowing smoke, just being paranoid. But they needed to face the facts. People were missing. Gone with no explanation, and he could only agree with Spot now. They needed to figure out why.


	6. Tell The Boogeyman I Said Hello

**Tell ****The** **Boogeyman I Said Hello**

**September 1900**

Dew drops and the smell of the farm. If anyone were to ask Flash what she missed most about home, that would be her answer. That and a bed of course. Her days of sleeping on the hard ground had taken a toll on her back and there wasn't really an end in sight. She missed the sense of safeness that a bed often provided. She could remember how it felt to curl up under the warm fabric of the blanket, pillow soft and peace surrounding her, hushed whispers through the bedroom that she had shared with her brother. Back before everything got so damn complicated and terrible. Back before her dad turned into the monster that he did. Back when the only tough decision of her day was to pick which pond they were going to swim in and which cow was her favorite.

The harsh bite of reality was that the good times were long gone, just like her Ma and Pa, and things would never be the same. As much as she wanted to hold on to the hope that her life would get back to normal, she knew it never would. Even if she found what she so desperately was looking for, things could never go back. There was too much trauma for all involved.

But she could wish that she had someone to whisper into the night with, just for old times sake. She could pray that she found her brother. And she could hope that she would find her place in this fucked up world, its sense of grandeur long lost in her eyes.

She was alone. Lonely. She had felt that way for a while now, even being surrounded by her could be friends. That's why she didn't mind so much when she saw Racetrack round the corner, almost tripping over a bag of garbage that had been left in the alley way.

Race let out a slew of curses, unaware that he had company in the alley that he was going to have to sleep in. Kloppman was really starting to enforce the curfew that was set for the boys, and anyone that did not come home in time, had to find somewhere else for the night. He stood there for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. When he was sure he could see and there was nothing else in his way, he walked forward, looking around. His eyes fell on a shadowy figure sat on the ground up against the bricks of the building.

"Sorry man, I'll find somewhere else to crash," he muttered to the figure, trying to think about where else he could go. Not Brooklyn, that's for sure. They didn't have such a strict curfew like the Manhattan Lodging House, but they did have Spot, and Race wasn't up for playing nice and groveling for a place to stay.

"No worries, Racetrack. I don't mind sharing," Flash told him before patting the ground beside her.

"Why am I not surprised that you're here? You're everywhere I go," Racetrack quipped, but made his way to sit down beside her.

"I thought that would take more persuasion," she teased. He couldn't see her face but he could hear the smile in her voice. "I guess you're warming up to me after all."

"Don't count on it," Race retorted. "I just don't feel like walking around all night. I can tolerate one night with you, I guess. We'll be sleeping and not talking for the majority of it anyways."

"I talk in my sleep sometimes."

"Of course you do. That's my luck."

"It only happens sometimes. When I'm having a nightmare mostly," she admitted, tossing him one of her blankets. He took it and grunted, and Flash assumed that was a "thank you" in Race language.

"What do you have to have nightmares about? You grew up on a farm. Do you dream about killer chickens chasing you?" he gibed.

Flash shook her head but realized he couldn't see her. "Not chickens," she said softly.

"Cows then?"

"No."

"So what do you dream about then?"

Flash let out a small sigh. She didn't much feel like getting into this right now, especially not with him. He wouldn't understand. Or worse. He would actually pity her, and she couldn't have that. "Typical stuff. The boogey man. Dying. That sort of thing. You know how it is. I do have this one dream where my teeth fall out though."

Racetrack fiddled with the corner of the blanket, running his fingers over the frayed edges. He hadn't known her for very long, but he was very perceptive. There was something that she wasn't being entirely honest about. Flash had an air of mysteriousness about her. He had a feeling that he hadn't even scratched the surface of who she really was, and he was curious to know just what her deal was. She never really answered personal questions, or any questions at all for that matter. She found a way to deflect, rather masterfully and without the questioner realizing until the subject had completely changed. "Yeah, I get that one too. It apparently has some underlying meaning, like you feel like you're losing control of your life or something."

Flash let out a dry snort, scoffing to herself. "That fucking figures," she muttered under her breath. "Doesn't surprise me."

Race shrugged his shoulders and tried to think of something to say to that. "It's a very common dream. Most people I know have had it a time or two."

"So what do you dream about then, Racetrack?"

Race shifted his body so that he was turned slightly toward her, peering through the darkness to try to make out her face. "You ever get the dream where you're fighting but your punches are landing soft?"

"All the time."

Racetrack nodded his head. "Me too. That happens a lot."

They were silent for a while and Flash thought that Racetrack had fallen asleep. She laid down with her head on the crumpled-up blanket that she was using for a pillow. She would have given her left leg for a real one. It was quiet, only the occasional shout in the distance broke their silence until Racetrack spoke, causing Flash to almost jump out of her skin.

"Why are you here?"

Flash sat back up, pulling her blanket with her. "What do you mean? This is where I sleep sometimes when I don't wanna make my way back to Brooklyn." She gave him a blank stare, but he couldn't see it.

Racetrack shook his head. "Not here, stupid. I mean in New York." He let out a small chuckle before leaning his head back on the wall.

"What's it to you?" she snickered.

"Don't get so defensive. I'm just curious," he shot back. "I just want to get a better understanding about you."

She picked at her thumbnail and brought it to her mouth, biting down on the skin around it. "I don't think it matters. I won't be staying here long anyways. I never do."

"But why here then? It's clear you don't really like it here. You're always going on about how people up here are different than everywhere else you've been." Race stated.

"Why don't I ask you some questions, Racetrack? You're always delving into my life, let me swim in yours for a bit." Flash gave him a sly grin.

Race gave her a half-hearted shrug. "Okay, what do you want to know? I'm an open book."

Flash crossed her arms in front of her chest and moved to directly face him. "Why are you a newsie?"

"Because I need money to eat."

"No, I mean why? Why don't you live with your parents?"

"Because they're dead. I'm an orphan." Race answered.

"Well what happened to them?"

"My mother died giving birth and my father died at work. He worked in the mines and there was an accident. He was trapped and eventually died, I guess," Race said nonchalantly.

Flash wasn't surprised that Racetrack was an orphan. Many of the kids she encountered nowadays had lost their parents to sickness or disease or accidents. It still caused her sadness, because being alone with no one to take care of you was... well sad. Kids weren't supposed to have to take care of themselves.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Flash said quietly.

Racetrack was quiet for a minute before he spoke. "It's alright. I was young when it happened, so I don't really remember much about that day. Mostly just feelings."

"Don't feel bad, I lost my parents too, So I'm an orphan right along with you. You got any kin?" she asked him.

Racetrack gave her a perplexed stare. "Any what?"

"Kin folk," she said in a voice that sounded like she thought it was a stupid question. "Ya know, kin? Siblings? Family?"

"Oh. I thought you were talking about that shit they use to start fires."

Flash laughed. "No, moron, that's kindling. Any brothers or sisters? Or aunts and uncles?"

Racetrack scowled at the name she called him. "No. My mother died giving birth to a little girl. I would say that she was my sister, but she's dead so it doesn't count."

"Yes, it does. She existed, didn't she?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Dead or alive, she was still your sister," Flash stated definitively.

"Okay, then I guess I did have siblings. And I think I have an uncle somewhere, but he's back in Ireland with the rest of my father's family. I think my mother had a sister too, but it's the same case there; back in Italy where my mother is from." Racetrack took out a cigarette and lit it, taking a few drags then passing it to Flash who took it eagerly.

"I knew you had to be Irish," Flash said proudly. "Higgins is a nice Irish name. My ma was a Walsh before she married my Pa, who was a Becker."

"I'm assuming Becker is German."

Flash hit the cigarette and gave it back, blowing the smoke out quickly. "How did you know that?"

Racetrack smiled slyly. "I'm pretty sure you were calling me names in German the second time we met."

Flash let out a low laugh and grinned. "I might have been. I know you don't speak German, but do you remember what it sounded like I said?"

Racetrack thought about what she had said and tried to replicate the sounds, failing miserably. "Gee meer ash diyun aw-geen," he stumbled through the phrase, his mouth getting caught on the wrong syllables.

Flash's face lit up and she let out a cackle, causing Racetrack to scowl again.

"Shut up," he hissed.

"Oh my god, that is the worst pronunciation I have ever heard. But if you are saying what I think you are, then I told you to get out of my sight. What else?"

Racetrack frowned and pulled the blanket up around his shoulders. "No. I'm not trying that again."

"Oh come on, please? I needed the laugh."

Race sighed before trying to stumble through the other thing she said. "Soon eyener whoon den."

Flash stifled her laughter with her hand before shaking her head. "That was a little better? That is kind of like something you say when something isn't going right. You can use it as a name, but I don't think that's what I did. It means Son of a Bitch."

"Classy," he muttered. "You'll have to teach me more sometime. I'd love to curse out people without them knowing what I'm saying."

"Why are you being so nice to me? You're always saying some kind of smartass thing to me usually, but you aren't now," Flash said suspiciously.

Racetrack gave her a shrug. "I don't know. I don't think I'm being nice. Just civil."

Flash laughed. "Well I like it. Better than you being so hostile all the time." She passed his cigarette back to him before letting out a small sigh. "It's getting late. We should go to sleep." Flash laid down and rolled over, gripping her blanket tight up around her shoulders, knowing the inevitable was going to happen.

"Wait a second, I didn't get to ask you anything." Racetrack prodded her shoulder but she didn't budge nor make any sort of noise indicating that she was listening to him. Racetrack groaned. "You do this all the time. Never answer questions. You'd think you were a fugitive or something."

"Technically I am."

"You know what I mean," he grumbled and yanked the blanket off her.

Flash turned to slap his arm lightly. "Cool it. Give me back my blanket you bum."

"Not until you answer my questions."

Flash grunted and snatched the blanket back from him. "Fine, Pony Boy. You get one question, so you better make it a good one."

Racetrack sat back and frowned. There were so many questions he wanted the answers to, it was hard to pick one. He wanted to know where she came from, about her childhood. He wanted to know what happened to her parents and why she was an orphan. He wanted to know why she moved around so much. He wasn't buying the whole wanted fugitive act. He really just wanted to know her and why she was the way she was. They had been around each other every day for almost a month now and he knew absolutely nothing personal about this girl that had managed to traipse her way into the lives of not only himself, but his closest friends too.

"I guess I stick to my original one. Why are you here in New York?"

Flash was quiet for a minute, deciding the best answer that would give him what he wanted without telling him too much about her parentage. "I'm looking for my brother. I got information that he might be in these parts, but I'm not sure."

"Your brother? I didn't know you had a brother."

"Yeah, well Jack is the only one around here that does, and he knows better than to go blabbing his mouth to you guys about it." Flash snorted and laid her head back down on the ground.

Racetrack was confused. That was the big secret? She had a brother and didn't want anyone to know about it? "You could have said something, Flash. Maybe we could help you find him, if he's around here."

Flash sighed and picked at a loose thread on her shirt. "It's not that simple, Higgins. Besides, I doubt he really is here. I haven't seen or heard a thing indicating otherwise. He got adopted from the orphanage or something. He could be anywhere."

"You weren't adopted?"

Flash shrugged and waved a hand. "I ran away. When I came back for him, he was gone. Who would want to adopt twins anyways? That's two more mouths to feed. I wouldn't do it. I've been looking for him for years now. He'd be 17 on October 9th."

Race was overwhelmed. This was the most she had opened up to any of them, besides Jack apparently. Now he knew she had a brother. A twin brother at that. He wasn't sure what to say to that, so he just stayed silent.

Flash took his silence as an ending to their conversation and she mumbled something that Racetrack didn't quite catch.

"What was that?"

"I said good night Pony Boy. May you have the sweetest of dreams," she said sarcastically before letting her mind wander to other things.

Race laid down next to her, careful not to invade her space. He let his head fall onto the makeshift pillow before uttering a response. "Good night, Flash. Tell the boogeyman I said hello."


	7. Let us in, Vater

A/N: This chapter is a flashback on the life of Flash. It provides a bit of insight on her homelife. There are some German phrases that I have put in there. The meanings are at the bottom of the page. There is also a poem of which I have given credit to the writer underneath.

**WARNING: THIS CHAPTER HAS LANGUAGE AND VIOLENCE.**

**Let us in, Vater.**

**March, 1895**

"Du Heirensohn*! Get back here or I'm gonna kill you!" Otto Becker bellowed angrily, spit flying from the corners of his mouth. He stumbled through the hall to the foot of the stairway, his feet shuffling clumsily to a stop before he peered through the darkness to the closed door at the top. He let out an angry grunt before taking a hefty swig from his half empty bottle of whiskey. It dribbled down the front of his shirt but he didn't seem to notice.

Joseph squinted through the crack at the bottom of the bedroom door he shared with his sister. He could make out his father at the foot of the stairs, the sheer size of the man hard to miss even in the dim lighting coming through the living room.

"He's just standing there drinking. I think we'll be okay. He should forget about us soon if we just stay in here and keep quiet. Hopefully he will just stumble to bed," Joseph said, a hint of doubt evident in his voice. He lifted his head back up to meet his sister's eyes. "What did you do to piss him off, Allie?"

Allie shook her head quickly and let out a small snort. "All I did was ask him when Ma was coming home. She's helping down at the soup kitchen, but he seems to think she's in the bed of Mr. Golden." She made a disgusted face before continuing. "You know how Pa is. Ma does everything wrong in his eyes. I'm pretty sure he's been drinking since daybreak."

Joseph let out a small sigh and threw his arm around his sister. He laid his cheek on the top of her head, blood causing her hair to stick to him. He shifted and grabbed the candle, using the flame to assess the damages. Her once stark blonde hair was now a deep red and matted to her scalp and down the side of her face. He grabbed a handkerchief and wet it with a glass of water by the side of his bed and began gently cleaning the blood from her face.

"What did he do to you this time?" he asked her sullenly.

Allie shrugged her shoulders and grabbed the piece of cloth from him, running it through her hair. "Threw a bottle. I don't think he was throwing it at me this time. Not intentionally. Still got me good though. It doesn't hurt nearly as bad as when he threw the knife last time." She grabbed at the small satchel she kept under her bed, dumping the contents out onto the floor. "You mind stitching me up?"

Joseph nodded and grabbed a needle from the cushion and set to work, his hands moving effortlessly over the wound. They were both experts in stitching each other up by now, having to do it countless of times, more than either of them cared to admit. He placed all the items back in the bag when he was finished and handed it back to her. She slid it back in place, tucking it under a small blanket that was given to her when she was a baby. She stroked the edges of the frayed material absentmindedly.

Joseph cleared his throat to break the silence. "Next time, try not to mention Ma. You know how he gets whenever she is brought up. You gotta remember that."

Allie grunted angrily. "It's bullshit, Troop, and you know it! Ma would never have an affair with anyone. She takes care of his drunk ass day in and day out. When would she have the time? I just don't und-"

"Shut up," Joseph hissed. He held a finger to his lips. Allie concentrated to hear downstairs. She couldn't make out very many of her father's words but she did hear her mother's name in the jumble. Máire. "Ma is home," Joseph whispered.

Allie could hear the muffled shouts coming from her parent's bedroom downstairs. This was nothing new to her or her brother. This was an every-night occurrence in the Becker household. Her father would get hammered and abuse them all over something stupid. It was always something stupid. The most common thing he had taken to was that their mother was a cheating whore. He even went so far as to say that Allie and Joseph were not his children, just some random guy off the street's kids. Bastards.

They could hear the screams of their mother and then silence. Nothing good ever came out of the sudden silences.

Allie and Joseph shared a look, their eyes getting big and their mouths forming into hard lines. They both jumped up at the same time and Allie slung the door open, tearing down the stairs with Joseph running after her. They ran through the living room and down the hallway that led to their parent's room. Joseph grabbed the door handle and jiggled it, soon realizing it was locked. He looked at his sister with wide eyes.

Allie banged on the door furiously with both of her hands. "Let us in, Vater! Let us in! What are you doing to her?" She shouted at the door. There were no voices talking anymore but she could hear a faint gurgling sound. "We have to get in there now!" she said fearfully turning to her brother. She searched his face for understanding and he nodded.

"On three," Joseph said, grabbing his sister's arm and pulling her down the hallway. They turned back to face the door, their hearts in their throats. Allie could feel her adrenaline kick in and her hands started to shake. "One... two... Three!" Joseph shouted and charged toward the door, Allie right by his side. They shoved their bodies hard into the wood and heard it crack before falling into the room. They stumbled around, catching themselves on the chestnut dresser.

They stood there in shock for a split second at the sight of their father on top of their mother. He had his hands clamped tightly around her neck; one knee planted firmly on her chest.

"Sheisse*! Get off of her!" Allie screamed, lunging at her father. She grabbed him by the hair and tugged him but it was no use. She slapped at his arms and clawed at his face, but he was too drunk to feel any of it. "Trooper, help me!"

Joseph was frozen, his mouth hanging open. He couldn't move. Try as he might he couldn't will his legs to go forward.

"Trooper, help!" Allie shrieked, still clawing at her father. That seemed to shake him because he darted forward and began ripping at his father's fingers to loosen them from his mother's neck. Her face was turning a light blue and her eyes were bulging full of terror.

Allie pulled back and took off out of the room, leaving Joseph fighting to save their mom.

"Allie where in the hell are you going?" He shouted. "I can't do this alone!" There was no answer and he thought she had taken off to hide until she came barreling back into the room wielding a cast iron frying pan.

Allie raised it above her head and used all of her force to send it slamming down on Otto Becker's head. There was a sickening clang and her father let go. Their mother lay motionless on the bed, eyes closed, but she was still breathing. She was only unconscious.

"You little shit! I'll kill you!" Otto spit at her. His alcoholic rage had peaked.

Allie raced for the door but her father grabbed a hold of her shirt, ripping the sleeve off. She took the opportunity and stomped through the living room and up the staircase to her bedroom. Joseph darted around Otto and charged up the stairs behind his sister, slamming the door behind them.

"Hide. Now," he whispered urgently, blowing out the candles. They could hear their father lumbering up the stairs and they knew their mother was safe for the time being.

Allie slid under her bed, gripping her baby blanket tightly in her hands. She held it up to her face and breathed in, smelling faint traces of pine and wood smoke. It helped to calm her down a bit. Joseph slid in beside her and they got as close to the wall as they could, praying that their father was too drunk to find them.

The bedroom door banged open and they could see Otto's feet stumbling in. "Drecksau, Drecksau*, where are you?"

Joseph clamped his hand over his sister's mouth to muffle the sound of her whimpers and together they watched as their father shuffled around the room to the foot of Joseph's bed. He leaned down and tore the blanket from the bed, peering under it and Allie let out another scared whimper.

Otto stood back up and shuffled to Allie's bed next and stood at the foot of it quietly. Allie could hear her heart pounding in her ears and felt her chest get tight. She could hear Joseph's breathing speed up and he looked at her with his wide eyes again. It was quiet until it wasn't.

Otto grabbed Allie by the feet and tore her from under the bed. She let out a scream and tried to grab at the springs under the mattress for some leverage.

"Found you, little pig!" Otto shouted with glee. He scooped her off the ground and forced her to her feet, holding the back of her neck to force her to look at him. He leaned in close to her face, his breath hot and putrid in her nostrils. He smelled like a distillery. "You're a little bitch, just like your mutter. I'm gonna show you what we do to bitches around here," he breathed into her face.

Allie struggled to free herself from his grasp, but her attempts were short lived. "Verpiss dich*!" She yelled and spit in his face.

Otto let out a low grunt before picking her up and slamming her against the wall. She felt a crack in her torso and pain spread throughout her abdomen, causing her breath to hitch in her throat. She knew he must have cracked a rib. She let out a small sob, which only fueled Otto's rage even more. He slammed her once more into the wall, knocking down a shelf in the process, the contents of which toppled to the ground and shattered. He let go of Allie, dropping her into a crumpled heap on the floor.

Allie lifted her head just in time to see her brother jump onto her father's back, gouging at his eyes and drawing blood from the fleshy part of his cheeks.

"You wanna play hero, do you boy?" Her father hollered. "Let's add some heat to that fiery spirit of yours." Otto grabbed at Joseph's arms and slung him up over his head onto the bed. He took a swig of whiskey from his bottle and doused the boy with what was left. Joseph coughed and spluttered, the whiskey getting into his eyes and mouth.

Allie tried to get up, but she was immobilized, the pain in her back and stomach too great to struggle against. Her head was swimmy and she felt like everything was coming at her in waves, the fog of the events hitting her eyes in slow motion.

Otto took out a match and lit it, examining it in front of his eyes before tossing it onto Joseph's alcohol-soaked body.

Joseph let out a scream as his body caught fire and Allie's blood ran cold. The sound echoed in her eardrums and buzzed in her brain. She saw a wisp of motion out of the corner of her eye and turned just in time to see her mother break an empty vodka bottle over her father's head.

He fell to the ground with a hard thud and lay motionless at her Máire's feet. Allie prayed that he was dead, that their nightmare of a life was coming to an end. But she could see the steady rise and fall of his chest and knew that he was only knocked out.

Máire shot towards the chest of drawers and pulled out a thick quilt. She had sewn them each one for their tenth birthday the previous year. Darting towards Joseph, she began to frantically smother the flames, starting at his head and working her way down. The smell of charred skin and burning fabric filled the room. Allie gagged; the combination of the smell coupled with her pain sent her into a fit of retching.

Once Máire had tended to Joseph, she made her way over to Allie, gently helping her to her feet and leading her to her bed. She stripped her of her blood-stained clothes and helped her slip into a soft cotton night gown.

"Be calm, my love. It's going to be alright," her mother whispered in her ear, stroking Allie's hair out of her face and placing a soft kiss on her forehead. "Sit tight, I'll be back in a moment." Máire made her way over to her husband still passed out in the floor. He didn't so much as stir when she lifted his leg and dragged him to the doorway and to the top of the stairs. Their mother was not big by any means, her stature short much like her daughter's. She was lean and petite, the counterpart of her husband who had a good 125 pounds on her. But she was able to shimmy him down the stairs with minimal difficulty.

Allie turned to her brother, trying to catch a glimpse of how bad his wounds were. The light was dim but she could make out a few blisters across his arms spreading out to his stomach. His hair was mostly still intact, only slight sprinklings of burnt spots here and there.

"Troop... are you okay?" She whispered hesitantly through the soft glow of the room. When he didn't answer she continued on. "You didn't have to save me. You should have run. You should have stayed with Ma. Anything other than what you did. You could have died."

"And you most definitely would have if I hadn't done something," he said softly. "You would have done the same for me, I know you would have. But we have to be careful now. He's getting more violent. Best to steer clear of him when we can."

Allie opened her mouth in protest, but her mother walked back into the room.

"Get some rest, you two. You need to build your strength back up." She turned to walk back out of the room but Joseph stopped her.

"Mama, what do we tell people this time?"

She paused with her back to them and let out a soft sigh before making her way to sit on the foot of his bed. "We tell them you fell into the fire pit while we were burning leaves. And Allie," she said addressing her daughter, "You got into another fight in the school yard. No one will question that given your reputation."

"I'm tired of making excuses up just to keep up appearances," Allie huffed. "It's not fair." She lay back on her bed and crossed her arms, giving her mother a frustrated groan. "We're not a big happy family like you want everyone to think."

"Allie Jane," her mother said sternly raising an eyebrow. "Do not speak to me that way. You know I'm trying my best. This is just how things have to be for a while. Just a little while longer, I promise. I almost have enough saved up for us to leave. Please just hang tight. Both of you."

"Yes Mama," Allie sighed, keeping her annoyance out of her voice. They'd been planning to leave for over 3 years at this point and Allie didn't think that day was ever coming.

Joseph gave a yawn, wincing slightly from the motion as it pulled at the skin on his face. "Mama, will you read us the poem before you go? Please."

Máire gave him a small smile before nodding. "Yes, alright. But straight to sleep afterwards, yes?" They both nodded in agreement and she stood to go get the book from the bookcase, thumbing through the pages before landing on their favorite poem.

Oh a sunny summer morning,  
Early as the dew was dry,  
Up the hill I went a berrying;  
Need I, need I,— tell you why?  
Farmer Davis had a daughter,  
And it happen'd that I knew;  
On each sunny morning Jenny,  
Up the hill went berrying too.

Lonely work is picking berries,  
So I join'd her on the hill;  
"Jenny dear," said I, "your basket's  
Quite too large for one to fill;"—  
So we staid— we two— to fill it,  
Jenny talking— I was still—  
Leading where the hill was steepest,  
Picking berries up the hill.

"This is up hill work," said Jenny;  
"So is life," said I, shall we  
Climb it up alone, or Jenny  
Will you come and climb with me?  
Redder than the blushing berries  
Jenny's cheeks a moment grew,  
While without delay she answer'd,  
"I will come and climb with you."  
*Poem by Lucella Clark*

*Du Heirensohn- You son of a bitch

*Sheisse- Shit

*Drecksau- Dirty pig

*Verpiss dich- Piss off


	8. A Butcher's Block

**A Butcher's Block**

Water lapped around Spot's body as he swam toward the ladder leading to the dock, its warmness missed as he reached the last step. He shook his head, clearing the water from his ears and shaking it out of his hair. The droplets fell to the dock in splatters and Flash shielded her eyes from the sun to peer up at him, her body stretched out on the warm wood.

"You look like a wet dog. Smell a bit like one too," she smiled, her nose scrunching up. She let her hand fall back to her side, running her fingers along the rough patterns of the dock.

"If I'm a dog, then you're more like a cat. Move over," he demanded, using his foot to casually poke at her leg. She shifted to give him some room and he sat down next to her crossing his legs.

"Cats and dogs are opposites and they hate each other. You saying you hate me?" She turned her head to sneak a peek at his face and saw the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Spot licked at a stray drop of water on his cheek and Flash felt the blood pool in her stomach. She looked away quickly and tucked her hands behind her head.

Spot let out a small chuckle and shook his head. "Nah, 'course not. If I did, you certainly wouldn't be here. Not now and not every other day like you are. I'm just saying, you always stretch out like a cat, monopolizing the space like you own it." He gave her a cheeky grin and she playfully slapped his arm.

"Shut up, you're ruining my favorite part about swimming."

"Drying off is your favorite part?"

Flash shrugged her shoulders. "I like the way the sun feels on my skin. Reminds me of home."

"You like it there? Your home?" Spot asked her inquisitively. Up until now, their conversations had mostly consisted of witty remarks and playful banter with the occasional quips of personal information sprinkled in. He liked the personal aspects a bit more than he liked to admit. He didn't really let many people see too much into his mind, thinking that as more of a weakness or self-sabotage. People can't use your thoughts or experiences against you if they don't know them. But he didn't have to worry too much about it with this girl because they still weren't on a first name basis yet. He liked it that way.

"I liked parts. I miss certain things about it. Like making homemade ice cream with my ma, and swimming in the pond. Milking the cows. The smell of burning leaves and the way the dirt squishes beneath your feet after it rains. The sweet smell of the wind as it whips through your hair. I miss all that." She finished. She avoided looking at him because she could feel the hot prick of tears in her eyes. Times used to be so simple in her early years and she ached to feel that again.

Spot gazed at her outstretched body while she wasn't looking, examining the many scars that covered her body the way a child would examine the wings of a butterfly. "You paint a mighty fine picture, little bird. But I feel like you're leaving out the nitty gritty details. Mind telling me why you look like a butcher's block?"

Flash glared up at him frowning. "I do, actually. It doesn't really concern you, does it?"

Spot shrugged his shoulders and tilted his head to the side, his hair grazing the tops of his eyelashes. "I wanna know about the parts you didn't like. The good stuff is great and all, but the devil lies in the details."

Flash snorted and cleared her throat before looking away from him. "I don't feel comfortable cleaning out from under my doorstep with someone I don't even know."

Spot feigned a look of hurt and put his hand over his heart. "Ouch, little bird. How could you say such things? We enjoy each other's company at least three times a week. Sometimes more. I'd hardly say I'm a stranger to you."

"We know each other then?" Flash challenged. "Alright then, I'll ask you the most basic question about myself and you answer. What is my name?"

"Got me there," Spot smirked. "Okay, so we don't know each other's names. Who cares? That's just useless information if you ask me. Not important. But if you asked me something else, I'd know the answer. For example, if you asked me if you were graceful, I'd say no."

Flash tried to hide her smile but by the look on Spot's face, she could tell she was unsuccessful. "Piss off, I am graceful."

Spot laughed and shook his head. "I've seen you dive. Ain't nothing graceful about that. You're about as graceful as a bag of bricks."

"And that kind of thing matters to you?"

"Not really. It's just proof that I know you."

"I'd hardly call that proof."

"Agree to disagree then."

Flash sat up and popped her back, crossing her legs and facing Spot when she was finished. "You don't think it's weird that we hang out all the time and don't know what to call each other?"

Spot grabbed at the crate that contained his bottle of whiskey and uncorked it, drinking deeply from it before wiping his mouth and offering it to Flash who refused.

"I don't drink whiskey."

Spot looked at her awestruck. "Are you dumb? Whiskey is by far the best drink there is. Why don't you like it?"

Flash pushed the bottle further away and grimaced. "The taste. The smell. I hate it all."

Spot grabbed the bottle back from her and drank some more. "You don't drink for the taste, doll. And you certainly don't sniff it. What's your drink of choice then?"

"Rum," she stated definitively.

"Weak. Whiskey is better."

"Agree to disagree," she mocked him.

Spot grinned and shoved the bottle back in the crate. "What is the real reason you don't like it? You have to have a bad experience. Bad hangover?"

Flash shook her head. "Tell me your name and I'll tell you."

"You can't use that as a bargaining chip."

"Just did," she said smugly.

Spot sat back and pondered what to say. "How about this: I'll tell you my name. My real name. And you can call me that. Because no one around here knows it anyways since we go by nicknames as I'm sure you've noticed."

Flash spit in her hand and held it out to shake and Spot followed suit. "Hell, I'll even tell you my real name too. Sweeten the deal a bit."

"Sounds fair." Spot beckoned for her to go first and she shook her head.

"No, you first. Gotta make sure you keep up your end."

Spot rolled his eyes and let a smile slip through. She was sly, he'd give her that. "Alright, alright. Sean. You can call me Sean."

"Sean," she said wistfully, and Spot couldn't help but to smile at the sound. He liked the way his name sounded coming from her lips, almost like a song or a prayer, every letter catching in his eardrums.

"I'm Allie. And I don't like whiskey because it was my pa's drink of choice." Flash glanced sideways before looking back at him, focusing on the slight curve in his eyebrows.

Spot swallowed and knew where this conversation was going. He leaned back on his arms and stretched out his legs, looking up at the clouds, trying to give her a moment of peace before continuing with his next question. "Was he a mean man, your father?"

"That's putting it lightly," Flash muttered under her breath before laying on her back beside him. They gazed up at the clouds in uncomfortable silence for a while, the tension of the question thick in the muggy Brooklyn air. Flash knew he was waiting for a real answer and she had a hard time coming up with one. She knew what to say but she had a hard time articulating it the way it was in her head. Flash rolled over on her side and looked at Spot. She could tell he knew she was looking at him but he didn't stir, choosing to let her speak first instead.

"My father was... well he was something. Mean is an understatement. In the past, I've used many terms to describe him. Asshole being my favorite with evil coming into a close second. He's the reason I look like...what did you call it? A butcher's block?" She willed him to look at her and raised an eyebrow at him when he finally did.

Spot could tell that she wasn't normally privy to talking about things like this, her expression a bit tight on her face. He felt that if she wanted to tell him, she would. He wouldn't press the issue. "My father was an asshole too," he offered, trying to take some of the heat off her.

"Yeah?"

"Would leaving your pregnant wife and three small children to live with the waitress of a diner qualify for asshole status?"

Flash gave him a sympathetic smile and nodded, propping her head up on her elbow. "I'd say that constitutes being considered an asshole." She tapped his shoulder lightly with her free hand, letting it linger there for a split second. "I'm sorry we have shitty fathers. But I'd say we turned out alright despite that, wouldn't you?"

Spot grinned at her and brushed his hair out of his eyes. He grabbed his cap and placed it firmly on his head, tucking his hair under it. "I'm more than alright, no thanks to him."

Flash lit a cigarette, puffing on the end deeply before letting the smoke out through her nose. "I'd like to think, in some fucked up way, I am who I am because of him. I've put up with a lot of shit, and I can handle more than I ever could have without him."

Spot snorted. "You're right, that is a fucked-up way to think about it. But whatever works for you, I guess." He let his eyes wander around and they fell on the soft curve where her stomach met the base of her hip and traveled up her torso, arms, neck, and finally to her face. She raised an eyebrow at him and he cleared his throat. "You're uh... starting to pink up," he said pointing at her.

Flash looked down at her body and let out a frustrated groan. "Shit, I hate burning. Fucking Irish blood in me." She got to her feet and started rifling through the clothes strewn precariously about the dock until she found what belonged to her. She pulled her shirt over her head and shoved her arms through the sleeves, grabbing for her pants. Spot watched as she slid her pants up over her knickers, a sly gleam in his eyes.

Flash noticed him looking at her and gave him the finger. "What are you smirking at, Sean? You're starting to burn too." She threw his clothes at him and they smacked him in the face.

Spot hastily pulled his clothes on and sat back down, lighting a cigarette of his own and patting the place beside him for Flash to join him. She took the invitation gladly and rested her arms on her knees.

"Hell, since we're airing our dirty laundry so to speak, you seen a kid around these parts by the name of Joseph? He might go by Trooper. Looks a bit like me, just a boy." Flash asked him.

"Why, did he do something to you?" Spot asked, furrowing his brows.

"No, wichser, he's my brother. We got separated and I'm trying to find him. You claim to know Brooklyn and the surrounding boroughs so well, I figured I'd ask."

Spot shook his head and let his cigarette hang from his mouth.

Flash sighed and took out a picture from her pocket, sliding it in between his fingers for him to look at. He took it and studied it, his eyes falling on every face. "Is this your family? You look so small."

Flash nodded and took the cigarette from his mouth, putting it between her own lips. "Yeah, that was taken years ago. Troop and I were about 9 in that picture. And there is my ma," she said pointing at the beautiful woman standing behind her brother, "And that is the asshole himself," she finished, gesturing towards the tall man behind her.

Spot looked at the picture again. There was something strangely familiar about her father, and Spot felt like he had seen that face before but he couldn't place it. He studied her mother and she looked familiar too. It made him feel uneasy.

"I'm guessing Trooper hasn't changed that much since then. He probably still looks similar to that. I haven't seen him in about 5 years so I dunno." Flash held her hand out for the photograph and Spot gave it back to her.

"I don't think I've seen him around before but I'll keep my eyes open. Promise."

"Thanks, I guess."

They both sat in the quiet of the moment, breathing in the smell of water and letting the sun dry the remaining water from their skin and clothes. Flash knew she had to get going soon and she was dreading it. It was the worst part of her day in her opinion, but the sun was starting to set above the buildings and she had to get to the factory girl's lodging house before all the beds were gone. After that night in the alley with Racetrack, Jack demanded she stop sleeping on the street. He talked with his friend Spot and got permission for her to call Brooklyn her home for now. So thanks to Race and his big fat mouth, she had now taken to sleeping inside. She couldn't complain too much; at least she had a bed now.

Flash let out a long sigh before catching Spot's eye. "I have to go."

"No you don't."

"I do though. But I'll come back tomorrow, yeah?"

Spot smiled; his dimples prominent in his features. "Alright, fair enough." He stood and held out his hand for her to grab. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. "One more thing though."

Flash raised her eyebrows in surprise. "And what is that?"

Spot gave her a little shove toward the end of the dock in response, sending her falling over the edge and into the water fully clothed. She let out a shriek when she resurfaced, giving him the coldest stare.

"That's not fucking funny, Sean! It'll take forever for my clothes to dry. Help me up out of here, it's the least you can do."

Spot grinned and leaned down to grab a hold of her arm. She smiled mischievously before tugging hard and he lost his balance, toppling into the water.

"Now we're even," she sing-songed in his ear.

"Oh, you're gonna get it now, little bird."

Flash laughed and swam backwards. "Gotta catch me first, don't you?"

Spot smirked and swam toward her, listening to her shrieks of protest as the sun started to sink down below the horizon.


	9. Running Out of Bubbles, I See

**Running Out of Bubbles, I See**

Exhaustion was not a feeling that Flash liked very much, but it was one she had to get well acquainted with. From working, hanging out with the guys, waking up early, and her secret meetings with Sean, she was spent. Every fiber in her body ached and she wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. Normally a morning person, Flash found herself holding the blankets and prolonging her feet hitting the floor later and later each morning. This feeling coupled with the constant squealing of the factory girls she stayed with meant she almost always woke up with her head pounding and she wanted nothing more than to punch them square in their faces. That being said, today was no different.

One of the girls had spent the entire night sobbing quite loudly to everyone's displeasure. Flash had tossed and turned and shoved her head under a pillow, but nothing had drowned out the wailing. When everyone rose for the day, a small crowd gathered around the girl- Nellie if Flash had remembered correctly- to see what she had been whining about. Flash wasn't really close to many of the girls and it didn't feel right to join them, so she busied herself with making her bed, cocking her head ever-so-slightly to listen in.

"Nellie, calm down. I can't understand you when you cry like that. Deep breath. No, stop. Jesus Christ, stop your fucking blubbering!" Flash recognized the voice as belonging to Annette, a rather loud and obnoxious girl. "What is wrong with you?" Annette questioned.

Nellie looked at Annette and buried her face in her arm. "Sp-sp-Spot!" Nellie wailed.

All the girls around her bedside exchanged knowing looks before flocking to embrace her.

Nellie's crying eased up to a soft trickle and she started hiccupping. She rubbed at her eyes, smearing tears and snot all over her face before someone offered her a hanky. She took it and wiped her nose, trying to hand it back to the owner. Flash saw Mary Louise scrunch up her nose and shake her head. "No that's okay. You keep it."

"Th-thanks. Sp-Spot broke up with me yesterday."

"Can you call it breaking up if you were never official?" A voice asked through the crowd.

"We were official!" Nellie snapped. Her red-rimmed eyes began to fill with tears again and she took a shaky breath to calm herself. "At least I thought we were. Apparently, we were just having fun and he said it was time to move on. He didn't even seem sorry. He seemed completely unbothered. I don't understand..." she trailed off.

Annette let out a groan. "I told you this is what Spot does! He keeps you around for a few weeks, gets what he wants, then leaves without so much as a decent explanation." Annette looked around the crowd and pointed. "Lou Ellen, didn't he do that to you?"

Lou Ellen nodded grimly and looked down at the ground.

Annette found another face in the crowd. "Scamp, what about you? Emily? Tiny? Pip AND Squeak? For heaven's sake Nellie, he did it to the twins!"

Mary Louise interrupted her. "Wait, didn't he do the same to you, Annette?"

Annette gave her a cold look and didn't respond. "The point is, this is just Spot. We all warned you about him, remember?"

Nellie let out a small whimper. "I know but I thought... I was special."

There was a chorus of "Me too" and "Yeah right" that rang through the air.

Annette wrapped an arm around Nellie and pulled her in for a hug. "He's good at that, honey. Makes you feel important. Gives you attention and the occasional gift. All the while, going to the whore house at night to be with the shameless. But it gets better, I promise. We don't even care anymore, do we girls?"

Flash felt fabric brush up against her arm and saw a girl had come to stand beside her. The group had all started sharing their own Spot stories with each other, collectively getting angrier with each word uttered.

"Ya know, between you and me, I never knew what the whole fuss about Spot Conlon was anyways. He's really not all that appealing," the girl whispered in Flash's direction and she realized she was speaking to her.

The girl noticed the puzzled expression on Flash's face and let out a small giggle. "Sorry, I don't think we've met before. I'm Alice, but my friends call me Trigger. Triggy if they're trying to get under my skin." She stuck her hand out to shake and Flash took it.

"I'm Allie. But no one calls me that. I go by Flash."

"Flash," Trigger repeated. "Kinda funny, Flash and Trigger."

Flash smiled and gave her a half shrug. "I've never seen the elusive Spot Conlon, but I've heard some things about him that make me question why these girls would subject themselves to that kind of treatment."

Trigger side-eyed her and glanced back to the group of girls huddled around Nellie. "Looks and power are alluring to some. To the weak."

"Sums this lot up nicely if you ask me," Flash murmured.

"Spot and I go way back actually. Back to his pre-reign days. He used to not be the way he is now. Always charming though," Trigger told her. She clucked her tongue against her cheek. "I knew it wouldn't last with Nellie. He told me so. Said there was something else he had his sights set on, but he didn't give me too much detail."

Flash gave her a confused look. "You still talk to him?"

Trigger smirked. "'Course I do. I said I didn't find him appealing, not that I hated him. We're friends. That's why these girls don't really talk to me much. Think I have a thing for him or something. Don't have the heart to tell them I prefer skirts over pants if you catch my drift."

"You're very open, aren't you?" Flash snorted.

Trigger shrugged. "I'm not scared of these bitches. You shouldn't be either. I've watched you; you know. Never saying anything even when I can see you want to. What is that about?"

Flash was at a loss for words and fumbled through the best explanation she had. "I just don't want any trouble. It seems to follow me and I'm just trying to stay under the radar."

"Well doll, New York is not the place where trouble comes to die. This is the birthplace. I'd embrace it if I were you." Trigger gave Flash a pat on the shoulder before walking out the front door, leaving Flash standing there gaping like a fish.

Annette ran to the window and watched as Trigger trudged down the stairs and out of sight. "Okay, she's gone. I got some news that'll make you feel better Nellie."

"Wh-what is it?" Nellie stammered.

"We don't have any Spot Conlon fans in here, do we? Trigger was the only one?" Annette asked looking around. Her eyes fell on Flash. "You?" she pointed. "Do you like him?"

Flash shrugged her shoulders. "Don't even know him."

Her answer seemed to satisfy Annette and she continued. "Spot is gonna get what is coming to him soon. Fred told McNair who told Penny who heard from Slink that there is some kind of group forming to take over Brooklyn. Right from under Spot's nose. They've been recruiting for a while now and coming up with a plan. He'll pay for what he's done, maybe not by our hand, but by someone's. They're gonna take what he loves most in the world. And there is talk about taking reign from the other boroughs too. Change is happening, girls. Just you wait."

"Other than Spot suffering, what does that have to do with us?" Scamp asked unsure.

"Don't you see? Don't any of you know what this means?" Annette snapped. "We might get a say in what goes on around here for once. This change of leadership could benefit us in ways we haven't even imagined yet. Spot cares about Spot and his boys. We need someone looking out for us for a change. And with leadership changing everywhere, who is to say we won't get to run shit?"

Footsteps echoed through the keeper's hallway and everyone fell silent. Ms. Sav emerged dressed in her nightgown and cap. She looked irritated.

"What is going on here? You all should be working! Everyone out. Get a move on!" She turned and shuffled her way back into her room and closed the door.

"We'll talk more later. Better do what the old croon says," Annette sighed and they all dispersed to get ready.

Flash wasn't sure what to do with the news she had just heard. For one, it didn't really affect her in any way. She wasn't living here forever. She had no ties to Spot or obligation to warn him. But she knew Jack was friends with him. She knew Racetrack once was as well. And if Annette was right, their places as leader and right-hand were in jeopardy and she couldn't just keep this to herself. Her meeting with Sean could wait, she had to find them.

Racetrack was running late. He had been out for drinks with the guys and Flash the night before and he was definitely paying for it now. His head was pounding and frankly, he still felt a little drunk. He had overslept and when he awoke, he was surprised to see that the lodging house was empty and Kloppman was out for once. He knew that had Kloppman been there, he would not have let Race sleep as late as he did. Race just knew he wouldn't have time to make it to Sheepshead to sell the morning edition.

Racetrack stumbled his way out of the bed and walked to the washroom, grateful that no one was here to witness the train wreck that was himself. His hair stuck up in odd angles and he had dry vomit crusted to his shirt, despite not remembering actually hurling. His breath was hot and he could still smell faint traces of vodka when he breathed out and it made his stomach feel like it was doing barrel rolls.

Race picked up the nearest washrag and got to scrubbing, wiping away sweat and dirt from his face and back of his neck. He pumped water into the small metal trough next to the sinks and stripped, lowering himself into the tub. He could feel himself relax and he suddenly didn't mind so much that he wasn't going to make it to Sheepshead on time. He leaned back and closed his eyes, placing a wet washcloth over his face. He was enjoying the peace and quiet so much that he almost didn't hear the door to the lodging house open. He figured it was just Kloppman coming back from his errands.

"This is a side of you I've never seen before, Pony Boy. Running out of bubbles, I see," Flash jested, leaning up against the door jamb that led into the washroom.

Race shot up and removed the rag from his face and placed it down towards his groin. He let out a grunt of annoyance and glared at her. "What the hell, Flash. You almost gave me a damn heart attack! What are you doing? How'd you know I'd still be here?"

Flash shrugged and cocked her head to the side, resting her thumbs in her belt loops. "I didn't. I actually came here to leave a message with Kloppman for you and Jack, but I just so happened to walk in on you like... this," she said gesturing towards him.

Racetrack clutched the rag closer to himself and rolled his eyes. "Yeah well you guys got me pretty soused last night, didn't you? Was getting me sloppy your intention the whole time? Because it worked and now I have a killer hangover."

"I had just as much to drink as you and I feel fine," Flash told him nonchalantly, picking dirt out from under her fingernails.

"Bullshit," Race scoffed. "There is no way you had that much to drink."

"How would you know, Race? Bet you don't remember half of what happened last night." Flash looked down at his crumpled heap of clothes and pointed. "Like throwing up for instance," she said grinning. "You remember that, do you?"

Racetrack groaned and threw up one hand, swiveling it in a circular motion. "You mind turning around so I can get out?"

Flash rolled her eyes and obliged but Race could hear her mumble something along the lines of "not like I haven't seen one before" under her breath.

Racetrack got out quickly and wrapped a towel around himself, kicking his clothes across the floor to a dirty clothes pile before making his way to his bunk to grab a fresh outfit for the day. Once he put on his smalls, he cleared his throat and Flash turned back around to face him.

"You said something about a message. What was so important that it couldn't wait for you to tell us tonight during poker?" Race asked her tugging his shirt on over his head.

"Oh right, that. Sorry, seeing you bathing was a bit distracting. Yes, well it has something to do with your buddy Spot. And the rest of y'all." Flash said.

"He's not my buddy," Racetrack muttered. "But go on."

Flash folded and unfolded her hands, shifting her weight back and forth on each foot. "Okay so I overheard some stuff at the place I'm staying and well... I'm pretty sure there is a mutiny forming against Spot. Actually, I'm pretty sure there is a mutiny forming against all the leaders of New York. Every borough. Including this one."

Racetrack stopped dead in his tracks and turned to look at her. "What did you say?"

Flash sighed. "I said that I'm pretty sure there is a mut-"

"No, I heard what you said," Racetrack snapped.

"Then why did you ask me?"

"Shut up. Why do you think that?" Racetrack questioned her.

Flash started ticking off reasons on her fingers. "Let's see, Spot broke the hearts of a lot of girls apparently. He has not only pissed them off, but he's pissed off other people too. They're recruiting people. Oh, and Annette used the term mutiny, so I think I'm pretty justified in assuming that's what it is."

Racetrack stood there speechless for a minute before shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest. "And they specifically mentioned that they are recruiting people and going after everyone?"

"Yes, that's what I've been telling you," Flash groaned exasperated. "Or trying to at least." She sat down on one of the bunks and rubbed her temples. "I don't give a shit about what happens really, and I don't really give a shit about Spot. But I know that you guys do. And well... you guys are my friends and I thought I should give you a fair warning."

Race threw up his hands. "This explains a lot actually! We've noticed people disappearing and we didn't know why. They're probably out with this gang of bums planning their takeover. Shit, we have to tell Jack. We have to tell Spot!"

Flash held up her hands. "Hold up, we? No, you do. I did my part; my conscience is clean and I'll sleep okay knowing that I at least let someone know."

"You've at least got to come with me to tell Jack. He needs to know everything you heard, down to the last word."

"Okay, I guess that's fair," Flash said in defeat. "But you might want to put on some pants before we go."

"I was planning on it."


	10. A Crash Course in Obedience

**Chapter 10**

**A Crash Course in Obedience **

Steam rose from Flash's plate and she inhaled, taking a whiff of the pasta as she sat across the table from Jack and Racetrack. Her mouth was watering and she eagerly picked up her fork and dug in, stuffing her mouth full. She swallowed and took another heaping fork full, not paying any attention to the two guys in front of her.

"Ahem," Racetrack cleared his throat. When she didn't look up, he kicked the leg of her chair.

Flash glared up at him, a single noodle hanging from between her lips. "What? I'm hungry," she mumbled around her noodles.

Jack thumped Race in the ear, earning him a glare from Racetrack of his own. "Let her eat, Race. I don't think she's gonna have much of an appetite after I tell her what we need her to do."

Flash stopped mid fork in the air and blinked at the pair of them, puzzled. She sat her fork back down next to her plate and turned her full attention to Jack. "If this is about what I overheard, you can count me out. I don't want anything to do with it, Jack. You know I can't go getting into any more trouble. You know exactly what's at stake for me," she said, raising an eyebrow.

Jack sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, Flash, I wouldn't be putting you in this position if I didn't think he absolutely needed your help. I swear. But the fact of the matter is, there aren't very many people I trust around here."

Racetrack gave him a dumbfounded look and scoffed. "Thanks," he muttered shortly.

Jack rolled his eyes and let out a breath. "None that aren't already publicly linked to me. You're brand new here. Haven't made any known alliances. That's why I have a plan in mind. But I need everyone on board. This means in order for that to happen, we have to go meet with our pal Spot." There was a pause and Flash raised an eyebrow at him again. "The three of us," he finished, gesturing toward everyone sat at the table.

Racetrack and Flash both let out sounds of protest, talking over each other to pelt excuses at Jack.

Jack raised a hand and waved it furiously, signaling them to stop talking. "I can't understand you both at once, for Christ's sake. Race," he said, turning towards him, "I already know what you're going to say. I know you're on the outs with Spot right now, but we have bigger problems than for you to be skirting around him on accounts of some dumb kid that knew he shouldn't be using Spot's money to gamble. I need you to get your knickers out of a twist and stand with me on this. I've got your back, okay?"

Race side-eyed him and let out a small groan, but slowly nodded his head in agreement. They both shifted in their chairs and gazed at Flash expectantly.

Flash laughed in disbelief. "Wow, Race. I picked you for a fighter, but you folded faster than a cheap tent. Where is the fire I see all the time? Where is your spirit?"

Racetrack recoiled at her insult and made a face. "I respect Jack, and I know when to set aside my pride," he said through gritted teeth. He didn't like being questioned or made to feel like he was bowing down.

"Coward," Flash said under her breath.

"Flash, stop antagonizing him," Jack said sternly before Racetrack could retort. "I know you don't want any trouble but we need you," he finished matter of factly.

Flash sighed and sat back in her chair, crossing her arms. "I've heard stories about this 'Spot' character," she said emphasizing his name with disgust. "I can't say I care to be in his company. Especially not with the way you guys talk about him."

"Are you scared?" Racetrack challenged her, a smile playing at his lips.

"No," Flash shot back coldly. "But like I said, I can't be getting myself into trouble or fucked up situations and this just screams it. From the things I've heard, that's all Spot is."

Jack pushed his plate to the side to make room for him to put his elbows on the table. He leaned in so she could hear every word he said. "I will not let this go south. I will protect you. Just like Trooper did. The way I did in Coosa. Remember when that guard tried to take you away to the cellar? I didn't let him. If it looks like anything will be a problem, I will take care of it. I swear it."

Flash saw the pleading look in his eyes and blinked back the burning she felt in her own at the mention of her brother. Everyone was quiet for a good moment, letting Flash weigh out the pros and cons. She cleared her throat when she was finished.

"Fine. I'll go with you guys. I'll hear you explain all this to Spot. We'll see if he takes you up on it. But I'm not going to like it, that I can guarantee. And I can't promise I won't have some slick shit to say to your buddy. Can't always hold my tongue."

Jack gave her a lopsided grin and reached out both arms to clap her on the shoulders. "Atta girl. But try to keep the remarks to a bare minimum. Be nice. Spot doesn't take to kindly to anything else."

"Right. Wouldn't want to ruin his power trip or damage his precious ego. But I won't kiss his ass." She rolled her eyes and shifted her focus to Racetrack. "You seem to have a sore spot with him. Any pointers?" She asked him grinning.

"Shove off," he said pointedly before pushing his chair back to stand. Spot was a touchy subject with him. They used to be the best of pals, but Racetrack bit off more than he could chew when he had cheated him out of money. It was unintentional, just a result of the game with Cub. Spot wasn't one to easily forgive and forget though.

Jack rose from the table and threw some money down. "Should be enough to cover everything. You done with that?" He asked pointing towards Flash's half eaten plate of food. She nodded indicating that she was and Jack motioned towards the door, beckoning her to follow him. "Better send word out that we're coming. Let's go find Boots."

* * *

The air was thick by the docks today, thicker than what Spot was used to. It made breathing through his nose harder. But then again, that could have been the anticipation of Jack's arrival. The news that he and Race were coming could only mean that they had new information. Spot would never admit it to anyone, but that made him anxious. The anxiety coupled with the irritation of Allie not showing up today only put him further on edge. He was pacing back and forth on his dock when he heard footsteps and turned to see Jones's tall lanky figure making his way toward him.

"Kelly and Higgins have arrived, boss. Should I send them through?" He asked gruffly.

Spot shook his head slowly and closed his eyes. "No, I'll come meet them. Tell them to stay put."

Jones nodded once and trotted back up the docks

Spot was distracted. He knew that nothing good would come of it if he couldn't cast these nerves aside. He knew no one could see him not put together. He needed to gather his bearings first. Spot took out his bottle of liquor, pushing aside his glass to take a few deep gulps straight from the bottle. The amber liquid burned his throat and he felt a warm numbness flood into his stomach. "_That__ ought to do it," _he thought to himself before setting the bottle back down on the dock and taking a breath to steel his emotions. He sauntered towards the public docks, his swagger causing his cane to clack up against the rickety wood of the pier.

The sea of his followers parted, exposing the faces of the Manhattan newsies. Jack and Racetrack. Spot gave his signature smug smile before spitting into his hand and offering it to Jack to shake. "Heya Jacky boy. Race," he gave Racetrack a curt nod, dropping his tone when addressing the boy.

Racetrack fought the urge to glare up at him, tamping down on a rude comment. He returned the nod with one of his own and glanced back towards Flash. She was obscured by Sharpshoot, one of Spot's favorite disciples, not that Spot would ever admit to having favorites. She looked unamused, picking at the skin around her thumbnail, bringing it up to bite along the edge and Racetrack shook his head to himself. Leave it to her to not take this seriously.

Jack spit in his hand and extended it out to meet Spot's, shaking it and giving him a grin that only Jack could give. "Spot old pal. How's it rolling?"

"Peachy keen," he answered. "What brings you to my parts?"

"Best we speak privately about that, don't you agree?" Jack said chuckling. " But first, I think introductions are in order.

Spot looked at him puzzled and Jack whistled, motioning to someone behind him. "Now I know how you feel about new people coming into your turf. Especially to discuss such delicate topics. Don't think I forgot about what happened with Davey. But this here is Flash. She's the girl I told you about, the one you said could stay in Brooklyn. She's gonna play a role in this... well we'll get to that in due time." He glanced back and realized she wasn't coming and sighed.

Racetrack turned to glare at her but she wasn't paying attention, still chewing on her finger. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her forward, shoving her into sight.

"Get your grubby little maggot paws off me, Higgins. Touch me again and I'll-" she stopped when she saw Spot. "Sean?" She whispered.

Spot suppressed the urge to let his jaw drop. Her blonde hair was done up in a tight braid, a change from the wild way it usually splayed across her shoulders. She was dirtier than normal and Spot figured it was because she had skipped out on their afternoon swim. "Allie," he said before he could stop himself.

Flash let out a cackle. "You're Spot? The infamous one that everyone cowers over? This is him?" She said pointing and turning to look at Jack. "Jesus Christ, y'all. He ain't nothing to be afraid of."

Racetrack looked at her dumbfounded before shaking his head. "Unbelievable. Do you know everyone? How is it that she knows everyone?"

Jack gave Racetrack a small smack to the back of the head and widened his eyes, signaling him to stop talking.

Flash stole a glance back up a Spot, only to find his bewildered expression had morphed into a cold one. They locked eyes for a few seconds and she gave him a small smile, waiting for him to say something sarcastic as per usual.

"Seems we have failed to properly introduce ourselves. I'm Spot Conlon. I own this city," he said coolly.

Flash was taken aback at his cold demeanor but plastered a smirk on her face anyways. "My my. Have I heard stories about you. None good, if you could imagine. None that garner respect. You've really been shed in a bad light."

Jones and Sharpshoot stepped in front of her, crossing their arms across their chests as some kind of intimidation tactic. "Watch your mouth, rookie," Jones warned her, his voice huskier than she would have pictured coming out of someone of such lanky stature.

"Or what?" She challenged, placing her hands on her hips and cocking her head defiantly.

Spot saw the mischievous gleam dancing in her eyes, the one she got when she was smarting off to him at the pier. He snapped a finger and his goons stepped back in their respective places by his sides. "Flash was it?" He reached to fiddle with the gold tip of his cane. Talking to him in private the way she did was one thing, but in front of others? He couldn't have it. He couldn't have everyone thinking he was going soft. "Well Flash, I'll cut you a break since I am a man of reasonable proportions. You are barely wet behind the ears so you haven't been properly..." he trailed off looking for the right word. "Trained, I should say, on Brooklyn etiquette. You don't know your place. Where you fall on the food chain. But you will soon. Should you have any trouble with that... well we can offer you a crash course in obedience if need be," he finished menacingly, pulling his cane out of his suspenders and touching the end of it to the ground at Flash's feet.

Flash's smug expression changed into one of anger and she could feel the tips of her ears turning red. This wasn't the Sean she had come to like. This was a whole different person, one that she didn't know at all. She was shocked that he could be this way, so different from the guy she had spent so much time with. But she didn't know him, not like she thought she did. She chose not to respond to Spot's veiled threat, deeming it futile to even waste her energy on. She wasn't scared of him. Not in the way that she was afraid of her father. Whatever he planned to do would be a cakewalk in comparison to what Otto Becker put her through. But she knew quipping back at him in front of his cronies would only stir up trouble for Jack and she'd be damned if she'd be the cause of that, no matter how badly she wanted to punch him between the eyes.

Spot smirked at Flash and she caught a glimpse of something in his eyes, but she couldn't place it. "Look at you, little bird. Already learning."

She opened her mouth in protest, not being able to control herself but Spot cut her off by speaking to Jack. "Jacky boy, lets continue this conversation somewhere with less ears. Follow me." He beckoned to the three of them with his cane and turned on his heal, marching in the direction of his own quarters.

Once they reached Spot's dock, he pulled out a couple crates for them to use as seats and gestured for them to sit down, to which they obliged. He bent down to pick up his bottle of liquor off the ground and procured two glasses that he filled with the amber liquid, passing them to Race and Jack when he was finished. He gave Flash a smirk before returning the bottle to his stash and grabbing a new one. It had a familiar label, one that Flash recognized as Ron Bacardi Superior, a brand of rum. He poured her some and handed her the cup, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.

She took it and rolled her eyes. Normally she would have been pleased that he had remembered but the little show he put on in front of everyone left a bad taste in her mouth, one that not even run could cover up.

Spot continued to eye Flash and she raised and eyebrow, silently asking why he was staring at her. She realized he wasn't going to look away until she drank some of her liquor. She let out an annoyed grunt before downing the liquid in one fluid motion.

That seemed to satisfy him and he turned his attention to Jack. "So Jack, I take it you have some new insight on the problem at hand?" Spot asked him, raising a hand to remove his hat, tossing it down on the ground by his feet.

Flash studied him, examining the pompous way he sat there, like he was superior to everyone in his company. She was used to that to a certain degree, but nothing like what he was doing now. It seemed exaggerated, a bit try-hard in her opinion and if she wasn't so put off by the sight of it, she might have laughed.

Jack took a small sip out of his cup before setting it on the railing beside him and clearing his throat. "Yes. Well actually Flash does. That's why I brought her. I figured you'd want to hear the words come from her lips rather than have me paraphrase what she told me."

Spot returned his attention to Flash, suspicion looming across his features. "Is that so?"

Flash refused to look at him, training her eyes to a place just above his head. "Might be," she said flatly.

Spot made a noise and her eyes flickered down to meet his. The usual playfulness there that he was accustomed to was gone, replaced with one of utter dislike. "Well let's hear it then."

Flash held his cold gaze with one of her own as she recounted the story down to every last detail. When she was finished, he leaned back, resting his upper body on the pier railing. He closed his eyes, his mouth forming a hard line.

Flash sneaked a peek at Jack and Race, giving them a quizzical look. Racetrack just shrugged and threw up a hand to indicate that he was just as confused by Spot's reaction as she was.

The silence around them was deafening, louder than the sound of the breeze that rustled through Spot's hair and Flash took note of the way it hung in his eyes, kissing the tips of his eyelashes. He opened his eyes, almost as if he knew she was staring at him and their gazes locked again. Flash felt her mouth go dry and she quickly found somewhere else to focus her attention, embarrassed that he had caught her.

Jack spoke first to break the silence. " I can tell that you're already trying to formulate a plan. I have one of my own if you're keen on hearing it." Jack waited for a response and continued when Spot gave him a nod. "We use Flash here as a mole and-"

"No," Spot said firmly before Jack could get out the rest of his sentence.

"No?" Flash questioned. "Whaddaya mean no?"

"I mean no."

"Can I ask why?" Jack queried.

Spot reached down to pick up his hat, putting it on and tucking his hair under the brim. She could see the tenseness in his movements. "It's too risky. She doesn't know her ass from her elbow when it comes to what we do and how shit works. Might say the wrong thing."

"I'm smarter than you give me credit for, you absolute donkey's ass," she snapped at him.

"Exhibit A," Spot gestured, not bothering to look at her. "Wrong thing."

Jack shot Flash a disapproving look and Race sat quietly glancing between her and Spot as if he were waiting for them to go to blows any minute now.

"You'd have complete control over the whole thing. You tell her what to say, what to do and when to do it. Your hand would be in this entirely. I've known Flash a good while now and I'm confident she could do it and do it well," Jack reasoned. "She already agreed to it."

Spot looked surprised. "Oh really? What's in it for you, little bird?"

"Money," she retorted.

"We didn't discuss that," Jack Warner as he side-eyed her.

Flash sat back in her seat and crossed her arms. She gave Spot a good once over and smiled sweetly. "You don't look like the type to take charity so you're gonna pay me for doing your dirty work, Spotty."

"How much?"

Flash looked up thoughtfully. "I dunno... four bits a week sounds fair."

Spot actually laughed. "Four bits a week? You must've swallowed too much bay water." He dismissed her offer with a wave of his hand. "You'll get two," he stated definitively.

"I'll get four," she said through gritted teeth. "Or I'm not doing it."

"Two, and you will. You and I both know that I'm not going to be the only one who suffers if this isn't squashed. Your pals here suffer too. You're lucky I'm even agreeing to pay you at all."

Flash pursed her lips, cursing him silently for calling her bluff. He was right, he wasn't the only one that would have to deal with the fallout of this mutiny actually came to fruition. "Fine," she said shortly after a moments pause. "Two bits a week for however long I have to do this. And I want it in writing."

Spit smirked at her, taking in her sour expression. "No need. I'm a man of my word."

"Your word means nothing to me. I still want that in writing," she demanded. "I won't have you trying to fleece me."

Spot ran a thumb along his jawline before taking a scrap of paper from his pocket. He scrawled something on it before signing his name on the bottom. "Smarter than you look," he jeered, leaning over to hand it to her.

She snatched it from him and read it, tucking it into her breast pocket when she was finished. "I know."

"So how do you suppose this works?" Spot turned to Jack. Jack rubbed the back of his neck and took another drink from his cup.

"Flash has no known allies. Should be fairly easy. All she has to do is act like she hates you. She voices that enough, they'll come to her hopefully."

"Won't have to act," she muttered loud enough for Spot to hear.

He ignored her, pressing on. "We need to have a meeting with the other leaders. There are some things to be discussed. I'll send Mouse with the message to meet at the warehouse on Friday past noon. We can all talk more then."

Jack and Spot stood to spit shake. Racetrack and Flash got up too and made their way up the dock behind Jack.

"Flash," Spot called for her before she could make it too far. "We aren't finished here. I still need to speak with you."

Jack and Race both had nervous expressions but Flash motioned for them to go on without her. "I'll catch up with you soon. This won't take long."

Jack gave her a half-hearted pat on the back and wordlessly walked the rest of the way back. Racetrack just shook his head and followed suit.

She trotted her way back to Spot. "What do you want?"

"Are you sore at me?" He asked quickly, looking into her eyes. Flash detected a trace of guilt and she was surprised.

She scoffed, ignoring whatever his look was doing to cause that small pang she felt in her stomach. "No, of course not," she spat. " I'm all vanilla and roses over here."

"Good," he said pretending not to hear the blatant sarcasm in her tone. He turned to make his way to the far side of the pier and Flash let out a small snort of anger.

"You used me. You used me to keep up your stupid King of Brooklyn facade."

"Had to, didn't I? I have a reputation to uphold," he told her nonchalantly.

"Well it's bullshit, Sean," he yelled, using his real name. "I thought we were friends. But you've made it abundantly clear that I'm just another on of your subordinates. Someone to make an example out of. If that's how you want it, then that's how it'll be."

Spot spun to face her. "Of course that's not what I want. I still want us to be friends. It'll just have to stay a secret like it was before." He could see her anger. Flash always wore her emotions on her face. Her expressions said more than her words ever could. But he saw something else hidden under that anger, something he could only recognize as sadness. It was faint, but it was there.

"Yeah, well I'm not interested. From now on, we only talk if it pertains to the plan and the plan only. You can shove this secret friendship where the sun doesn't shine. I'm done." She wheeled around and stomped her way back up the dock.

"Allie!" Spot called out.

"Fuck off," she tossed over her shoulder, not bothering to look at him, leaving him to stand there alone.


	11. Civility Amongst Them

**Chapter 11**

**Civility Amongst Them**

Flash sat perched precariously atop a barrel, taking in the sight of the room full of boys in front of her. The space they were in was quite large, bigger than her entire house back home. They were in an old decrepit warehouse, one that looked like it hadn't been used in quite some time. It looked like it had once been used as a shipping distribution center. Old travel flyers and advertisements lay strewn about the floor amongst crushed up cigarette butts that she decided must have come from this particular crowd.

For leaders, this group was a rather rowdy bunch, their voices echoing off the dingy walls and bouncing from the ceiling.

Flash crinkled her nose at the musty stench emanating from the damp room and wished she had a dozen of her mother's homemade beeswax candles to try and cover the smell.

She let her eyes scan the room until they found their way to Spot. She hadn't spoken to him since the day they had visited to talk about the mutiny. Flash had flat refused to go back to the docks, choosing to spend more time with the Manhattan bunch instead. It was nice to be able to get closer to them, nice to get to know them better. But a small part of her missed seeing him and having their witty and playful banter. Only a small part.

Spot was the only one out of them not conversing with anyone, choosing to isolate himself in a corner. He had a hand full of papers laid out in front of him and he looked to be studying them carefully, one hand resting thoughtfully under his chin and the other slowly tracing patterns on his temple. He looked lost in thought, his brow furrowed forming a slight _v_ in his forehead and for a split-second Flash wanted nothing more than to run her thumb along it to smooth it out.

Flash shook her head to clear the thought away and sat up straight, craning her neck to try to get a glimpse at what he was studying. A laughable sight really considering he was clear across the room and there was no possible way she would be able to read what was written on the pages. Her vain attempt at snooping was interrupted by fingers snapping in front of her face.

"Hello? Earth to Flash. You day dreaming again?" Jack waved a hand back and forth in front of her, blocking her view.

She slouched back down in her seat and rested her hands on her lap, finally tearing her gaze away from Spot. "Something like that. Were you saying something?"

"I only repeated myself three times. But hell, what's one more. I was trying to point out who was who. It'll kinda be useful information to know, dontcha think?" Jack chuckled.

Flash shrugged her shoulders and let out a small sigh in agreement. "I mean, I guess so. Who is the short one with the glasses?" she asked pointing to the boy crouched on the floor. He and Race were engaged in what seemed to be an intense game of Gin Rummy.

"That's Shank. He's the leader up in Queens. His right-hand is Dodger," he told her, pointing at a taller boy in faded denim overalls. "Thick as thieves, those two. Grew up on the streets together when their parents threw them out."

Flash nodded her head to the right. "And the big one over there in the corner?"

"Reg. Runs the Bronx along with Pinwheel, the scrawny guy looking over Race's shoulder. Don't wanna find yourself in a tussle with Reg. He's busted almost as many skulls as Spot."

Flash glanced back over at Spot at the mention of his name only to find him staring at her. His expression was unreadable, his eyes dark. She could feel her stomach tighten like it usually did when they made eye contact. "Staten Island?" she asked Jack, not breaking eye contact with Spot. She could feel her cheeks flush, getting warmer by the second.

"That'd be the twins, Blue and Switch. I don't know much about them. They haven't had the reigns long. Which only leaves Topper, the one with the curly black hair. He doesn't have a right-hand. He's kind of the lone wolf of Harlem." Jack smiled to himself. "I always make fun of him, saying his hair looks like someone plopped a dirty mop on top of his head. He's good people though. Are you even listening?" He thumped her on the arm and she returned her attention back to him.

"Of course I am," she huffed, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

Jack let his eyes follow the direction she had been looking in a second prior and clicked his tongue against his cheek. "Spotty Boy has his eye on you, don't he? What exactly happened there? I never asked."

Flash glared down at him and shook her head slowly, finding herself turning to peer back at Spot. He wasn't looking anymore, going back to studying his transcripts or whatever it was he had been reading before. His crisp blue eyes were darting across the pages with a speed that made Flash dizzy. "And here I thought you just had the good sense to leave well enough alone. Should've known better. My fault really."

Jack laughed. "You knew I was bound to ask at some point. It was rather interesting to see that you guys were familiar with one another without being aware."

Flash sighed with dissatisfaction. She didn't want to get into the innerworkings of her and Spot's private friendship. Or what used to be a friendship. But she had to give Jack something or else he would never shut up about it.

"I met him the day I met the rest of our little ragtag team. He was... I dunno... he was different than how I see him act around you guys. More human, I guess."

Jack cleared his throat, still looking in Spot's direction. "Spot is respected around here. Predictable but also very much... not, in a sense." Jack had a thoughtful look in his eye. Flash could see the gears turning in his head, working something out. "I bet there is more to him than he lets on," Jack considered.

"I don't really wanna talk about it anymore. What's done is done," Flash dismissed, sniffing derisively. She brought her thumb up to her mouth and bit down on her cuticle. There wasn't much left of it at this point and it started to sting with every scrape she made, but she continued chewing at it anyways.

Racetrack made his way over to them, his pockets jingling more than they had when they first arrived. Judging by the expression on Shank's face and the way he was muttering to himself, Flash assumed that Race had won more money than Shank had hoped.

"You won't have a thumb left if you keep eating it like that. If you're hungry, might I suggest real food instead of auto cannibalism?" Racetrack retorted, reaching the pair of them.

"Might I suggest shutting the hell up?" Flash shot back, taking her thumb out of her mouth and tucking her hand under her leg to resist the urge to continue mutilating her fingers.

"But then you won't be able to hear my beautiful speaking voice," he grinned.

"A tragedy of monstrous proportions," she muttered.

Racetrack took out a cigar and motioned for Jack to hand him a match. He lit it and took a few short puffs before letting it hang from the corner of his mouth. "What has your knickers in a twist this time?" he asked around his cigar.

Flash huffed and crossed her legs at the ankles, leaning back a bit to avoid toppling off the creaky barrel. "What do you care, Pony Boy?"

"I don't," he stated, but the look he gave Jack said otherwise. He was waiting for Jack to fill him in on why she seemed more irate than usual.

Jack glanced at Flash and then back to Race, shaking his head and frowning.

Racetrack had come to realize no matter how close of friends he and Jack were, Jack would never tell him anything Flash didn't want him to. They shared a bond, one much like he and Jack did. But different. And Racetrack knew trying to squeeze Jack for an explanation would prove pointless.

Racetrack puffed once more, letting the smoke billow from his nose. "Fine, be that way then. No skin off my nose. But just to let you know, you're getting really unpleasant to be around lately."

"Does it look like I care whether or not you enjoy being around me? Couldn't care less," she chided.

A whistle rang through the room, halting their conversation before Race could think of a comeback. Everyone stopped mid interaction and turned to face Spot, the cause of the loud noise.

"Alright, everyone settle down. It's time to call this meeting to order."

Everyone grabbed something to sit on and dragged their seats to form a semi-circle around Spot. When everyone was seated and mostly silent, Spot continued.

"As most of you know, I've called you here today in regards of the missing newsies that have kept disappearing from each of the boroughs over these past couple of weeks. You have all come to me, or vice versa, to express concerns. Well I'm here to tell you that Jacky Boy and I have devised a plan and we would like to explain it to you and tell you what part you will play in ensuring that it is successful."

Spot paused a moment, letting the boys have their own reactions to what he had said. He let them talk, his eyes wandering over each face, searching for one in particular. He found Flash seated in her original spot, gazing at him, her full attention trained on his every move. He felt the pit that had been forming in his stomach over the last few days grow. They locked eyes and Spot felt as if they were having a silent conversation, one that no one else was a part of. He tried to read her, staring intently at every small movement, every flicker of light across her face. He could see the slight sadness still present in her bright green eyes, mixed with resolve about something. And anger. The anger was still there. But so was something else, and he couldn't quite place his finger on what it was.

He motioned for her to join him and he could see her hesitate for a moment before jumping down. She trudged her way to the front and stood next to him, no longer meeting his stare, choosing to look in Jack's direction instead. Spot waited until the other boys were silent before continuing.

"This here is Flash. She's the key part of this plan. Let me explain how this is going to work. She is going to infiltrate this so-called mutiny. Find out who runs it, where, how many people there are. She's going to gather intel on weaknesses they might have."

Reg raised his hand and Spot stopped talking. "So she's gonna spy for us?" Spot nodded his head and Reg put his hand down and chuckled to himself. "That's all you had to say, Spot."

"Can I continue?" Spot asked crossly, looking around at everyone in the room. Everyone nodded and Spot started again. "Once she's able to gather enough information that is useful to us, we'll get our men and girls together and use everything she tells us to bust some kneecaps and break up this little uprising."

"Do you know why there are people going against us?" Blue asked him, fiddling with the frayed part of his little brown satchel. Flash remembered Jack saying that he and his brother hadn't been in their power positions too long and that probably explained the look of worry he wore on his face. Their newfound hold on their turf was already starting to crumble.

"No, I don't," Spot admitted shaking his head. He reached out to place a hand on Flash's shoulder. "But that's what dear old Flash is gonna find out for us."

Flash squirmed ever so slightly to get out of his reach, stepping sideways until his hand fell back to his side. She covered her movements by tugging at the bottom of her shirt, pulling it away from her body in order to fan herself.

"What do we need to do to help?" Topper asked, flicking a stray curl from his face.

Spot stretched his arms out on the podium in front of him, bending slightly at his knees so he could put some of his weight on it. "I need you to report anything you may hear to me. You're already doing that, but I mean everything. No one even so much as sneezes without my knowing about it. If you think there is going to be a problem, you let me know. The lines of communication need to be open among everyone in this room. But this stays between us. If she gets compromised, this whole plan goes to shit. Now any ideas on where she should start looking?"

The room filled with chatter, everyone spitting out ideas and criticizing what another person said. Flash was listening, trying to pick out bits and pieces of what they were saying when she heard Spot in her ear.

"Allie, we need to talk. You can't avoid me forever. And get your finger out of your mouth, you're bleeding," he murmured.

Flash tasted the salty copper taste on her tongue and let her hand drop to her side. She hadn't even realized she had been biting again. It was an old habit, a nervous tick she had when she was feeling anxious. She hadn't done it so much since she got older. She used to fight instead whenever her anxiety got the better of her but she had cut that down tremendously to avoid bigger issues. She guessed she was back to chewing her skin to compensate.

"What's there to talk about?" she murmured back, stealing a glance at him. He was giving her a look that said they had plenty to talk about. She silently shook her head and turned her attention back to the crowd in front of her.

"I recommend she start in Harlem," Topper shouted over the rest of them. "It's smaller than the rest of the boroughs. Better chance for her to run into someone there. Start small."

Spot raised a hand to quiet the rest of them. "That's actually not a bad idea. She can test the waters, and it's close enough to Manhattan if things start to head south. Good thinking, Topper."

Topper gave him a proud smile. "Happy to help."

"It's good to see you have a working brain under that head of what you call hair," Jack chuckled, punching his arm playfully.

"I'll show you what's good to see," Topper said good naturedly and they both stood to spar, knocking a few of the other newsboys off their seats. This caused a commotion and soon everyone was up and rooting for one or the other, placing bets on who would win along the way.

Spot inched closer to Flash and she could feel his warm breath on her ear. It sent a numbing chill down her spine and she couldn't bring herself to move away.

"We really do need to talk, Allie. Clear the air. You can't hate me while trying to help me," he whispered, his lips a mere inch away from her skin.

Flash closed her eyes and took in a deep breath before turning to face him. "I can hate you and still help. It might be better if I do anyways. No attachment or feelings to cloud my judgement."

"Feelings?" He raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn't expected her to say that word but hearing it made his cheeks burn ever so slightly. "What do you mean by that?"

Flash bit the edge of her lip before answering. "I just mean that it is better for me to try and stay neutral in this whole thing. Once it's over, I'll probably be gone. No sense in getting too wrapped up in emotion with anyone here."

This wasn't the answer that Spot was hoping for. He wasn't sure what exactly he wanted her to say, but this was not it.

"Can we at least stay cordial then? No more glaring at me like you would want nothing more than to set me on fire." Spot half teased, a small smile lingering on the corner of his lips.

Flash paused for a moment, taking in his request. She nodded in agreement. "Only if you can agree not to put on such a show like you did in front of people the other day. No being an ass for appearances. I'm not asking you to treat me like you did at the pier before. But I would like to be treated as a person and not a subordinate."

"Well I can't treat you like an equal."

"But I am your equal."

Spot scoffed and tried to hide his annoyance. She didn't get it. She didn't understand the importance of appearances and what being deemed as soft would do for his reputation. She was not his equal. They weren't on the same level. They weren't even playing the same game. But he would agree, for the sole purpose of civility amongst them.

"Fine," he said trying to keep all harshness out of his tone. "Basically equals. But you can't cause a stir trying to be funny like you did. You need to understand that. We'll be civil."

Flash rolled her eyes. "Fine. Civil. I'll keep my mouthy comments to myself."'

Spot gave her a genuine smile and spit in his hand, extending it to her. She spit and grabbed his hand, clutching it tightly. Their hands stayed entwined a fraction of a second longer than what would be considered normal and Flash quickly pulled her hand back, wiping it on her trousers, not looking at him.

She cleared her throat before speaking. "Alright, nice talk. We all done here?"

"For now."

"Great." She made her way to stand beside Jack and Spot watched her as she quietly conversed with him.

He didn't like their closeness for some reason. They didn't seem to be more than just friends. More like a brother and sister. He didn't like that Jack knew more about her than he did. Was this jealousy? He shook his head and leaned back up against the podium, still watching the pair. Their conversation seemed intense and Spot could see Jack occasionally steal quick looks up at him. Flash grabbed his face to turn his attention back to her, seemingly getting annoyed. Jack threw his hands up in defense and Spot concentrated on his lips, trying to catch what he was saying. Flash was nodding and Jack looked like he was giving in to whatever she was saying.

Racetrack walked to join them and the two of them quickly stopped talking, turning to face him and the three of them seemed to start a different conversation.

The comment about feelings and attachment echoed in Spot's head and he decided he was going to do anything he could to get some sort of reaction out of Flash. He was certain there was more to it than what she had let on and he was determined to figure out what she meant. He tried to reverse the roles and imagine how Flash would feel if he was close to another girl. Would she be jealous? Would it bother her as much as it bothered him? He had so many questions. So many unfamiliar feelings that he needed to sift through. But one thing was for certain, Flash stirred something in him that most girls did not. He just needed to figure out what it was.


End file.
